Ace Combat 7: Deep Blue Skies
by FerrinFPB
Summary: On Hiatus, due to COVID-19. See my profile for details. AU of Skies Unknown, from the perspective of Trigger and Cossette. Focused on non-combat scenes, with enhanced back story primarily for both of them, but some other characters as well.
1. Chapter 1

_**Does the color of the sky mean anything special to you?**_

_**It does to me; a hell of a lot.**_

_**When I close my eyes, the sky in my dreams is a deep, dark blue.**_

* * *

**"A Call to Arms"**

**1300 15 May 2019**

**Farbanti, Kingdom of Erusea**

**18º02'34"N 76º34'55"W**

"To all in attendance, to all with keen ears, I am Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise of the Kingdom of Erusea."

Despite the simmering tension of all who watched, the address drew much applause. Despite _herself_, the princess smiled, warmed by the love of her people. She kept the smile on her face as she continued.

"Citizens of Erusea, as I look out to the beautiful emerald south sea water at Gunther Bay, I see only the shining heart and brilliant potential of our people. For too long, we have been constrained and controlled.

"You asked my father to be your king, to guide our country in the wake of so much strife. You asked me, a common school girl, to be your princess, and fulfilled a childish dream so many imagine."

She paused.

"It is time now for us to fulfill your dreams. It is time now for us, as a people, to rise to our full potential."

The roar of applause was deafening. She smiled brightly, and waited patiently to continue.

"We do not seek war, we seek liberty. We do not seek death, we seek justice. I ask you all to find it in your hearts, to take courage, and fight for the future of our people, that we may prosper once more!"

* * *

"_This is OBC Breaking News, live with the latest reports on the attack today that left widespread destruction in all of the Federation's ports._

"_As of 1 PM today, the Kingdom of Erusea declared war on the Osean Federation, citing a violation of sovereignty and self-determination. It is believed this statement is directed at the space elevator constructed in Gunther bay, a historical territory of Erusea that is currently under International Union control. It is also believed that the statement indicates resentment and blame directed towards IUN and Osean influences, who have directed organization of the Erusean government up to this point."_

"_The office of the President released a statement immediately following the declaration, stating that Erusean talks with the IUN had fallen apart when it became clear the Erusea government refused to cooperate with IUN advisement, even as IUN officials had considered granting further autonomy and aid to the struggling nation._

"_We reached out to former president Vincent Harling regarding the attacks and Erusean declarations, but received no comment. Former president Harling was the one who pushed for the construction of the Space Elevator…"_

"_The fate of former president Vincent Harling is unknown after the Erusean military seized control of the Space Elevator earlier this evening. Incoming reports tell us that Mr. Harling was touring the recently completed facility, but it is currently unknown if he was able to escape. Our sources within the Department of Defense have told us that Mr. Harling had a Secret Service and military guard, but with speculation that the Erusean military now controls the Arsenal Birds alongside the Space Elevator, it is impossible to be certain of his safety."_

* * *

"Father!"

She ran towards him through the entrance hall of the palace, more bubbly schoolgirl than graceful princess. The king interrupted what appeared to be a rather heated conversation with a military advisor, and turned to embrace her. A smile could be seen on the face of many who watched the two. Many who, despite their duties and priorities given the state of war, took the time to watch the pair as they embraced, and were entranced by the enthusiasm and joy of the royal daughter, and the loving smile of her regal father, who despite his weariness and stress, radiated pride.

"You were wonderful, my little rose," he said. "I do not know that we would have the support of our entire people, had it not been for the rousing call this afternoon from their heart to fight for a better future for us all."

She laughed her musical laugh, just one more aspect beloved by her people, her cheeks tinted the same shade as her name.

"Thank you, father, but there is no need for flattery," she pushed him playfully. "You played a much larger part than I did. Our strategy worked! No one was hurt, and we have already made so much progress towards our goals!"

The king's smile this time did not quite reach his eyes, though he embraced his daughter once more.

"We have made progress, but there is still much to be done, Cossette," he said. "But leave that to me and our generals. For now, I believe that our chef has prepared a celebratory dinner for you, then off to your studies."

"Alright, Father," she said, kissing his cheek. "I love you."

"And I you, little Rosa," he said, his voice wavering for but a moment. "Your mother would have been proud."

* * *

**1630 15 April 2016**

**November City, Osean Federation**

**02º40'32"S 172º36'22"W**

"Spell your name out there so I don't make any mistakes."

The recruitment officer tapped the paperwork in front of him, before resuming typing at his keyboard.

"Age?"

"Twenty."

More typing.

"Put your date of birth next to your name. Birth place?"

"Wesson."

A pause. "Lake country?"

"Five miles from the shore, yes," he answered quietly.

"Huh. Did they ever rebuild the old city hall?"

"It was too expensive to restore the original foundations." At the look of inquiry, he continued. "They moved the location further downtown. Pretty sure the old one is a strip mall, now."

The man snorted. "A strip mall, huh? I remember when they told us to leave the night the Belkans attacked. Gathered the whole town in front of city hall, 'course it was smaller then, the town, that is."

He nodded politely, but said nothing, as the officer spent a moment more lost in thought before returning to his task.

"Highest education level?"

"Baccalaureate."

"Field of study?"

"Nursing."

Another pause. The officer took the paperwork he had been filling out and scrutinized it.

"James Marietta Beckett, born tenth of May, 1998," he read aloud. "Tell me something, Beckett. Why is a nurse applying for a pilot rating?"

"There's been growing unrest, and I have my private pilot's license," he replied. "I figured maybe I could work as a nurse here, and help in the Air Defense Forces in the Air National Guard."

The officer stared for a moment, before returning his gaze to the papers in his hand.

"Beckett. Any relation to Patrick Beckett?"

"Distant."

The officer stared another moment before shaking his head.

"Look, kid, if I put you in for a pilot rating with a nursing degree, they'll take one look at you and toss you into the nearest hospital. And with a name like Beckett, sure it's common enough, but still recognizable, and someone might think-"

"My mother was a fighter pilot. Ten years."

Despite the softness of his words, they managed to cut off the officer's sentence and replace it with a pregnant pause.

"...was?"

An almost imperceptible nod, followed by silence.

"...ah, to hell with it," the officer sighed. "I'm low on quota anyways."

He stood, before offering his hand. James took it, his grip and his eyes expressing the gratitude his lack of words could not.

"Good luck, son, I'm sure she'd be proud."

* * *

**0825 15 April 2018**

**Whiteman Air Force Base, Osean Federation**

**02º41'56"S 172º51'23"W**

"Cadets, attennn-shun!"

They rose together, Second Lieutenant James Beckett standing tall at the front. One by one, they crossed the outdoor stage, saluting the training Wing Commander and shaking hands before having their wings pinned to their chest.

"For someone with a degree in saving lives," the commander said, as he pinned the wings to his chest, "you managed to earn a nickname for having the potential to take a lot of them."

"With all due respect, sir," he said quietly, seemingly surprising the commander for speaking up. "The way I see it, I'll still be saving lives."

The commander paused a moment, before patting his shoulder.

"That you will, son. Make us proud."

In the gathering that followed, a few acquaintances from training introduced him to their families, but he quickly found himself alone, relegated to the side to watch as others celebrated with their loved ones.

"Mind if I join you?"

Startled, he head quickly turned to the familiar appearance approaching him.

"Nurse, my ass, son. You were born to fly."

"Lieutenant Colonel Bullard?"

"Second Lieutenant Beckett," he said, standing beside him to look out at the families. "If I hadn't disobeyed regs to get you a rate, I'm pretty sure I'd have gotten a medal for approving your recruitment paperwork."

James smiled, but his expression became pensive once more as he saw a family pass in front of him. Bullard turned towards him and grabbed his shoulder.

"They'd be proud, son," he said. "I know it. You're one of the few little hatchlings I won't have to worry about come deployment to the field."

Bullard paused a moment, releasing his shoulder and turning back to the gathering. Then laughed.

"Man, I don't think I've ever actually looked forward to raising new chicks," he said, still chuckling. "But damn if I wasn't a bit excited when they asked me to return to the sky."

He clapped James on the shoulder once more.

"See you in the sky, Trigger." He paused. "And try not to get in over your head, you hear? I want to see you wearing my shoes someday."

James smiled, before snapping a salute, which the colonel quickly returned, smiling once more before leaving.

The smile grew smaller, but this time it remained, as he looked up to the sky. He imagined his mom would be proud that her son had followed her to the skies, even if in part only to be closer to her.

He sighed a little. And his dad, too. Ever the pacifist, he would have chewed him out but hugged him in the end.

Wiping the sheen from his eyes, he kept his gaze to the skies, wondering what unknown adventure they held for him.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Y'know, I wish you could see what it's like up there.**_

_**Cruising above the clouds. The dark blue of the stratosphere.**_

_**Nothing beats being at the controls and seeing it from the cockpit.**_

* * *

**"Charge Assault"**

**1614 15 May 2019**

**Fort Grays Air Base, Fort Grays Island**

**7º58'25"S 9º25'50"W**

**Operation: Deer Horn**

"Attention!"

All eyes shot up to the commanding officer at the front of the control room.

"Earlier today, our remote radar site sent a report that a group of unidentified aircraft were approaching them. Communication systems went down immediately after receiving it. We are led to conclude that the unidentified aircraft have attacked the site, and are assumed hostile."

He surveyed the room before continuing, his expression grim.

"It's possible that the Usean Ceasefire Agreement has been broken for the first time in over a decade. As of today, the Fort Grays Air Base Squadron of the International Union Peacekeeping Force has been put on high alert. We will be sending out two squadrons to investigate. If any hostiles are found in the area, we have been ordered to-"

Red emergency lights sprang to life as he was interrupted by the sudden blare of alarms.

"-what's going on? Sitrep!"

"We're under attack, sir! Numerous unidentified aircraft confirmed on approach."

"Sir, reports coming in that the tank farm to the north has been bombed! Numerous casualties!"

"How is that possible?!"

"Where did they come from?!"

"Settle down!"

His command was ignored as men and women scrambled to and fro.

"I said settle down!"

All commotion halted.

"I want a broadcast sent out, wide spectrum."

"Yes, sir." The communications officer in front looked up after a moment, "All yours, sir."

He nodded once, eyes to the radar screen.

"Unidentified aircraft, this is the commanding officer of Fort Grays Air Base, of the Osean Federation and International Union Peacekeeping Forces. You have committed an act of war in direct violation of the Usean Ceasefire Agreement. Cease all activity immediately. Failure to comply will result in the use of lethal force. This is your only warning."

He paused. Their short range sensors now had the unidentified craft marked, indicating several small

groups approaching from various directions.

After waiting a few moments with no response, it became clear that the hostile craft had ignored his hail. He turned back to the communications officer before speaking again.

"Base wide; then send a report to command, priority one."

The officer affirmed his order, before looking up once more.

"Attention Fort Grays Air Base. We are under attack by an unidentified hostile air entity. This is not a drill. I am raising us to FPCON Delta. All air units…"

* * *

"...scramble, scramble, scramble."

Down in the hangars, all personnel exploded into action.

"What's happening?"

"Bombers incoming! Don't know how many!"

The F/A-18F flight group on standby began heading to the runway as the remaining pilots and flight crews sprinted toward their aircraft.

"Let's clear that runway, we don't got all day here. Golem 1 to Control Tower, we clear to take off?"

"Control Tower to Golem 1, your squadron has priority. Linked to AWACS Sky Keeper. Get those birds in the sky, we're sitting ducks!"

"Roger, Control. Mage 1, get those birds in the air, ASAP!"

* * *

The remaining F-16C flight group proceeded with haste to the runway. The first F-16 departed rapidly, leaving the second quickly to take its place.

"Trigger, your call sign is Mage 2. Linked to Sky Keeper," Control said. "Verify and read back."

"Roger, Control. Designation Mage 2; AWACS link Sky Keeper."

James took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before breathing out. He tightened his grip to stop his hand from shaking, and swallowed the nerves that rose in his throat.

"All clear, Mage 2, go for takeoff."

Releasing the brake, he pushed the throttle and watched as his aircraft began to hurtle forward.

"It's a hell of a welcoming party, Trigger, but we have faith in you. Good luck."

He knew they wouldn't see it, but he gave a swift salute in the direction of the control tower.

As he reached about halfway down the runway, his aircraft reached takeoff speed and pulled up on the stick to begin his climb.

"Looking good, Mage 2, altitude restriction lifted."

Securing his oxygen mask with his off hand, he tuned his radio to the squadron frequency.

"-looks like the harbor's taken a lot of damage, Knocker, and the carrier-!"

"-I know, Brownie. We can't have any more casualties," the squadron leader cut her off. "It's time to stop this bullshit."

Leveling off, James could see the four members of Golem flying in formation in the sky above him.

"Golem 1 to Mage 2. Try to hustle next time, kid," Knocker continued. "Form up with Mage 1."

His wingman, Clown, waved his wings up and down in greeting as he formed up on his left.

"Glad to have you up here, Trigger," he said. "You showed promise in training, now let's see how you do in a real fight."

They flew forward, forming up with Golem Squadron.

"Alright, Golem and Mage, it's go time," Knocker said. "Let's do this."

"Golem 2, yes sir," Brownie called out.

"Golem 3, got it."

"Golem 4, understood."

"Mage 1, wilco."

"Mage 2, roger."

"Gonna have to speak up, kid," Knocker chided. "It's hard enough to keep track of you up here as it is."

"Yes, sir," James responded, and cleared his throat.

"This is AWACS Sky Keeper, I've marked your targets. They've been identified as Erusean Tu-95 and Tu-160 bombers. They don't have many escorts."

Sky Keeper continued.

"These are likely the ones that took out our radar site, and they hit us hard. Stay sharp, and keep your eyes and ears open. We'll keep you posted."

"Golem 1, understood. Mage squadron, take out the first bomber, we'll establish a perimeter."

"Mage 1, wilco," Clown, his flight lead confirmed. "Trigger, I want you on point; I'll be your wingman. Let's see what you can do."

Glancing at his radar, James saw the enemy bomber coming up ahead. A moment later, a targeting square appeared on his heads-up display, identifying the target as a hostile marked Tu-95 bomber.

"Target sighted," he called out. "confirm lethal force."

"You got it, Trigger. Give 'em hell."

James increased the throttle to put himself in targeting distance of his short-range air-to-air missiles. As he approached, the targeting square flashed before finally turning a solid red. The tone from the targeting system confirmed lock, and he positioned his thumb over the launch button on his control stick.

"Mage 2, Fox 2."

Two missiles flew forward, targeting the inner engines on either side of the bomber. The right wing sheared off from the explosion, as the bomber began to spiral downward.

"Confirmed splash on target, they're going down," Sky Keeper said. "Good job, Mage 2."

"Not bad, Mage 2," Clown said. "Keep this up and we'll make a fine pilot outta you, yet."

"Mage Squadron, this is Sky Keeper. There's another group of targets on the radar; painting them now."

"Roger, Sky Keeper," Clown replied. "They're just sittin' there, Trigger, all pretty and just waitin' to be taken. Let's go introduce ourselves."

James noted the altitude and distance of their next target, and adjusted his own altitude accordingly, pushing the throttle to intercept. Their electronic warfare suite had managed to hijack enemy radio frequencies, and the hostile pilot chatter now came through his headset.

"Harbor fuel storage is intact. It's asking for another round," an Erusean pilot said. "All escorts form up on the bombers for another attack. Point is 835."

"Watch out for those escort fighters, Trigger," Clown warned.

His HUD marked two MiG-21 fighters flanking the rear of another Tu-95. Just as he was about to mark one of the MiGs, Knocker called out.

"I'm on his tail. Focus on the bomber, Mage 2."

"Rigel 2, bandit on your tail!" the Erusean fighter alerted his wingman.

"Rigel 3, engaging. I'll hold them off."

"Rigel 1, they have me locked!"

"Focus, Trigger."

"Mage 2, Fox 2."

The two missiles launched towards his target. One hit; then two. The left wing broke apart, sending the bomber into a death spiral.

"Rigel 1, I'm hit! We're going down, I repeat, we are going-!"

Flame burst from the cockpit as the fuel tanks exploded, sending fire throughout the bomber. His grip tightened and his view became slightly unfocused. The first bomber hadn't even registered when it went down, adrenaline high from his first time launching into action. But hearing the pilot-

"Target confirmed down, looking good, Mage 2," Sky Keeper commended. "Another pair of bombers, coming in range."

"Stay calm, Trigger," Clown said, his voice reassuring. "You've got this."

He shook his head, leveling off with Clown. He would leave those thoughts for later.

"Not too shabby," Knocker said, somewhat grudgingly, "but you've still got a long way to go, kid. I'll give you some pointers back at base, if you can make it back in one piece."

They turned for another bomber group before they were interrupted.

"This is IUN HQ. Attention all combat groups. Verify, are there are any drones present in your Area of Operation?"

"This is Golem 1, unknown at this time."

"Understood, Golem 1," they replied. "Keep an eye out and report back with any suspicions."

Any commentary was prevented by a radio burst from the Eruseans.

"The harbor facilities and carrier have been destroyed. Returning to base," one bomber said.

"We've still got half our bags," another replied. "We'll empty them on the air base, then RTB."

"Mage squadron, get that bomber before they reach the base," Knocker ordered. "Golem will handle the escorts."

"Wilco," Clown acknowledged.

They flew quickly to bomber in question, and he quickly targeted it before firing his missiles, sending it earthbound.

"Good job, Mage 2," Sky Keeper said. "Looks like four more targets headed our way. It's probably the last of them. Finish this up so we can head on home."

He looked toward the base in the distance, shaking his head slightly. Their 'home' was on fire. The airbase was mostly intact, but the harbor beside it was awash in smoke and flames.

They moved on to the remaining group of four bombers.

"Trigger, use your special weapon. It'll give 'em a helluva surprise."

James switched to his four-target air-to-air missiles. He paused briefly to confirm lock.

"Mage 2, Fox 3."

Four missiles raced towards their target, impacting almost simultaneously. One bomber exploded outright, while the other three broke apart and fell to the ground below.

"Bandits splashed," Clown called. "Good work, Trigger."

"Hesitating for a split second could mean the difference between life and death for you, your squadron, and anyone you may be protecting. Make sure it doesn't happen again," Knocker admonished.

James considered arguing for a moment, that he was just confirming lock, but thought better of it.

"Yes, sir," he responded crisply.

He searched his radar for more targets, but no more appeared.

"To Golem and Mage, that's all of them. No bandits showing on radar. Nice job."

"Thanks, Sky Keeper. We do what we can," Knocker said. "Control, permission to land?"

"Roger, Golem 1. RTB. Good work out there."

James formed up with clown and Golem squadron before they turned to head back to the island.

"Golem 1, this is HQ. Did you confirm any drones out there?"

"HQ, this is Golem 1. Negative, no drones confirmed." Knocker addressed the rest of them, "What's the deal with these drones?"

James didn't respond, knowing Knocker was just one of the many pilots aggravated by the possibility of being replaced by drones. That said, he knew that AI drone technology had been under works by Osean military contractors, and it was not out of the question for the Eruseans to have done the same. However, he had read that the Osean project had been scrapped after the AI was determined to be too unreliable.

It was then recycled into a project designed to enable strike aircraft originally designed for two crew members to be flown and commanded by a single pilot. The success of the project led to aircraft such as the modified F/A-18Fs currently flown by Golem squadron, among others.

"Control to Mage 2. You're clear to land, Trigger. Good work up there."

Back in the relatively untouched hangars, the pilots clambered down from their aircraft. As the support and maintenance crews began inspecting the planes, Knocker called for them to gather around.

"Good work out there, everyone," Knocker started, before turning his gaze directly to Trigger. "And the hatchling made it back. I see you managed to keep yourself in one piece."

"Trigger did great up there, Knocker," Clown said. "Cut the kid some slack."

"I'll admit, he did better than most. Eight bombers is nothing to sneeze at," Footpad, Golem 4, spoke up.

"He did fantastic! Regardless of 'compared to others', he'll be an ace fighter in no time."

James turned and gave Clown a grateful smile.

"I know the kid's shown some promise, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. He's still barely gotten his feet wet," Knocker answered back. "Get some food and ready up to head out. If we don't already have orders I'd imagine they're coming soon. Dismissed."

* * *

An hour later, their assignment had come through, with orders to head out the next morning and link up with a refueling element off the coast of Zapland before heading inland.

As he lay in his bunk, James considered the day's events. He thought he would have been excited to be combat deployed for the first time, to be a true combat pilot like his mom, while still saving lives like his dad.

But instead he felt conflicted, because as much as he wanted both of those things, he now knew that in order to save lives, he would have to take them. And with a war having just begun, he could only imagine what more would be ahead of him.

* * *

**Author's Note [Edited from Original]: **I don't like this chapter, and will eventually change it down the line. If you notice, this is the only chapter to be written in this style, with perhaps "Courage" being the only minor exception. For now I'm leaving it as I'd like to focus on progressing the story.


	3. Chapter 3

_**I had gone from being a little girl to...well, still a girl, just older.**_

_**But now...I was all alone.**_

_**...wherever the souls of my Gramps and his pals are flying, I hope it's peaceful.**_

* * *

"**Courage"**

**0600 16 May 2019**

**Farbanti, Kingdom of Erusea**

**18º02'34"N 76º34'55"W**

She awoke abruptly to the rise and fall of sirens in the distance. Every hair on her body stood on edge.

She heard shouting in the halls, fireworks and thunderclaps going off in the distance outside the palace walls.

She sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, before rising. A chill settled over her, and she pulled on a jacket over the thin shift she wore to bed.

Noting absently that the mornings had not held such chill for a week now, she approached her windows, wondering just what could be causing such mysterious sounds and conditions.

Cossette yawned, the hand which stretched out to open the blinds moving to cover her mouth. She reached out once more, and thought she could hear the build of the siren again, along with the sound of nearing footsteps…

The doors to her bedroom crashed open.

"Your highness!"

"Get away from the windows, your highness!"

Soldiers she recognized to be members of the royal guard came flooding in, and several swiftly approached her.

"Captain?" she started.

"Protect the princess!"

The guard captain slung his rifle onto his back, wrapping a protective arm around her shoulder and guiding her away from the windows. Those who approached with him looked in between the blinds, assessing for unseen threats.

Looking over the shoulder at them, she asked, "What's going on?"

Glancing his way, the captain's face was grim. They did not stop moving, and though he gave her a cursory glance, his eyes quickly returned forward to the remaining guards at the bedroom entrance.

"We're ready to move, sir," one said.

Stepping out into the hallway, the captain waved the royal guard forward. They quickly formed a protective circle around her.

"We're under attack, your highness."

Cossette snapped her attention to the captain, whose eyes remained forward, ready and alert.

"Attack? We…"

The realization nearly winded her. Rise and fall of sirens, fireworks, thunderclaps...air raid.

_We're under attack_.

She was pulled from her thoughts as they rounded the corner, greeted by additional guard members.

"The rear exit collapsed, sir."

"Damn it," the captain swore. "We'll have to go by the front entrance. I want it secure before we get there."

"Yes, sir."

Her mind raced, all traces of sleep and confusion replaced with alarm and barely controlled panic. Cossette knew they were headed to the bunker below the palace. She had been show how to get in by-

"My father?"

"Already there, your highness."

They strode quickly through the halls. She recognized that they were headed towards the main entrance. Their progress was paralleled by a steady increase in volume of what she now realized were gunfire and explosions.

The ground shook from what she could only assume was a relatively nearby explosion. Their pace hastened to just under a run, turning another corner and entering the entrance hall. To their left, in the courtyard, there were two anti-aircraft vehicles parked on either side.

Further past the gates, the streets were crowded with vehicles. The palace was in the middle of downtown, designed to be easily accessible to the citizens it represented.

Barking interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly turned to the rapidly approaching form of her beloved golden retriever, who bound through the circle of guards to reach her.

"Jemma!"

Cossette hugged her, giving her a once over for injuries as the retriever sniffed her with concern. The last gift she received from her mother, Jemma was almost always by her side.

Except she had left her side, running toward the courtyard before pausing to turn. Her feet tapped back and forth, and Cossette could just make out a pleading whine.

"What is it?" she asked her, pushing through the circle of guards, ignoring their protest.

"Your highness…!"

Jemma was trained as a service dog, to better protect her from danger. She had been trained to know the way to the bunker. If she was ignoring the way there, then something was wrong…

_There_. She turned to the guards.

"In the streets, there are people who need help!"

The rush to leave the war torn area must have caused numerous accidents on the downtown streets, the one in front of the palace no different from the many surrounding it.

The air raid siren blared once more.

"Your highness, there's no time!"

But she ran anyways, Jemma at her side. Her fear and panic melted away and all that remained was a determination to aid those people.

_Her people._

**-\oo/-**

"_Breaking news from ENN."_

"_Osea launched an attack on the capital this morning, just one day after the King and Princess declared the Erusean people to be free of IUN and Osean control."_

"_They struck immediately at Farbanti from one of their two remaining aircraft carriers, the Kestrel Two. Their other carriers were crippled by Erusean drones yesterday afternoon."_

"_We go live now to our reporter in the field."_

"_As you can see from our perspective here, smoke trails are rising all over the suburban area of the city, where Osean bombs and missiles continued to land even after their planes had passed downtown military targets. From what we know..."_

"_Osean forces have attacked military and civilian areas indiscriminately, and have displayed little to no concern for the safety of civilian lives. As such, an evacuation advisory is now in effect. We would ask that…"_

"_It has been reported that the royal family has safely reached their safehouse, but not before the princess herself was seen running in the streets just outside the royal palace. She ran from vehicle to vehicle, inviting all those she found to take shelter within the impenetrable bunker beneath the palace, as her royal guard rendered first aid to those involved in accidents. In the last image we captured was of the princess, she had her arm around the shoulders of a pregnant woman, helping her to enter the palace."_

"_We received word that one of our field teams were amongst those brought to safety within the palace, so we go live now to…"_

**-\oo/-**

"...water? Does anyone need water?"

Cossette had as many bottles as she could carry bundled in her arms, passing them to the people who now sat on the floor of the bunker beneath the palace. She smiled softly as they took them from her, their thanks and gratitude a balm to her frazzled nerves.

Her father, who now stood at the far end of the room with his advisors, was understandably upset with her for risking her life. The initial look he gave her had said as much. But when they had reach him, standing at the entrance to the bunker, his expression melted into abject relief as he embraced her.

Smiling a bit more at her father's love, she noticed the pregnant woman she had helped before. She was crying softly as one of the royal guards she recognized from earlier sat beside her. He cradled her in his arms, whispering softly to her before gently pressing his lips to her brow.

Cossette approached quietly, before kneeling beside them. The guard noticed her, sitting up slightly, and began to salute.

"Your highness-"

"Please, there's no need for that," she said softly, waving his hand down before placing a bottle of water in it instead. He smiled gratefully.

She gestured to his wife. "How long have you been married?"

She often took time to speak with the guards and other palace staff when she could. When she was twelve, and they first moved into the palace, she talked with them to ask what all of them did. Having spent the majority of her life as a common citizen, she'd had no idea what so many people were needed for.

As she grew older, the practice continued, but she did so to express her gratitude for their service by treating them as friends, rather than servants.

This particular guard was new, though, so she did not know as much about him.

"A year, your highness."

She smiled warmly, as the woman brushed away her tears and met her gaze.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

The woman gave a weak smile, a sheen returning to her eyes.

"Yes, your highness, thanks to you."

Cossette's cheeks warmed at the praise, but she continued regardless.

"What is your name?"

"Ida," the woman replied. "And my husband, Frans."

"Well, Ida," she said, smiling again, "please let me know if there is anything - anything at all - that I can do for you."

Ida's eyes widened slightly, before her smile grew.

"Thank you, your highness, you are too kind."

She simply nodded, smiling once more before standing.

The happiness of her people was her own. If they were in need, she would provide however she could.

"Pardon me, your highness…?"

Cossette turned, and was surprised to find a woman who looked like a reporter. Alongside her was a woman with a camera, its lens pointed to the floor.

"Yes?" she replied. "How can I help you, miss…?"

"Helena Schumaker, ENBC News, your highness," she finished. "We were wondering if we could hear your thoughts on today's events?"

Cossette glanced to her father at the end of the room, who met her own gaze for a moment before slowly nodding. Looking back to the reporter, she nodded her assent. The woman smiled, gesturing to her colleague, who prepared her camera.

"Thank you, your highness."

Anytime she had ever given an interview, Cossette had always been asked permission before the camera even began to record. It was a courtesy she was immensely grateful for, as she knew that news crews were not so generous to many others.

"Thank you, Erik," the reporter said, speaking to the camera. "I'm Helena Schumaker, live her with her royal highness, Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise."

She turned towards her as Cossette gave a small wave to the camera.

"Your highness, I would like to thank you once again for risking your life in order to ours, along with the lives of everyone else in this room."

Cossette ducked her head, her cheeks warming.

"I simply did what I could to help," she replied.

"And we appreciate it greatly, your highness," the reporter said, her smile genuine and bright, before it faded. "If I may ask, what are your thoughts on today's events?"

Rallying her thoughts, she lifted her eyes to the camera before continuing, injecting the strength her people needed into her voice.

"While I am saddened by our losses, and angered by the disregard for civilian lives," she said, "I was filled with pride as I approached the street earlier today, seeing already the many citizens who had stopped to aid their fellow countrymen, and was emboldened by the bravery and tenacity they displayed in the face of so much chaos."

She paused for a breath, before continuing, noticing absently that every person in the room had stopped to watch her.

"I would ask that all of you, every citizen of Erusea, would take up that same bravery, that same tenacity, that same spirit to do what is right in the face of all that is wrong, and to stand by me...to stand by each other. For if we do so, we will win. We will stand for ourselves, and show the world that without their oppressive hand, we can prosper."

* * *

**Author's Note:** To those who reviewed, favorited, followed, or simply read, I appreciate your words and time given to my work. Addressing those who have followed, I will say that updates may be semi-frequent the next few days, but after that is anyone's guess. For reasons as to why, see my profile.

I am glad that my approach to this story is enjoyed and appreciated, and that the background for Trigger in particular has been well received. I fully intend to cover his character development in detail throughout the story, but I'm afraid I've developed an...interest, in a certain Erusean princess. Every appearance of Cossette has given me the impression that, despite her naivety, she is a loving and dedicated individual, with an innocent and compassionate heart. I've enjoyed writing for her, and you can expect for me to bounce back from her and Trigger.

As I've said before, other characters will be covered, though it is unlikely to the depth that I will do so for Trigger (and now Cossette). In terms of changes to who lives and who dies...well, all I will say is that, in general, I would like to give more closure to those who helped or were involved with Trigger along the way in some form, only to disappear by the end. This means that some characters may find themselves having an extended lease on life.


	4. Chapter 4

_**How to Tell the Difference Between the Branches of the US Armed Forces!**_

_**If you give the command "SECURE THE BUILDING", here is what the different services would do:**_

_**The NAVY would turn out the lights and lock the doors.**_

_**The ARMY would surround the building with defensive fortifications, tanks and concertina wire.**_

_**The MARINE CORPS would assault the building, using overlapping fields of fire from all appropriate points on the perimeter.**_

_**The AIR FORCE would take out a three-year lease with an option to buy the building.**_

* * *

"_Alright Trigger, we need to secure that airbase."_

"_Oh geez, why didn't you say so? I could've saved saved us the trip and just called my realtor."_

* * *

**Interlude**

**0700 16 May 2019**

**Fort Grays Air Base, Fort Grays Island**

**7º58'25"S 9º25'50"W**

James stood above his bed, checklist in hand, the contents of his foot locker organized neatly on top of the sheets. He marked off each item, going through the list three times, top to bottom, bottom to top, then top to bottom again. Satisfied, he set the checklist down.

Grabbing the duffel bag at the foot of his bed, he made to place the items within it, but his packing was interrupted by a knock at his door. When he moved to open it, he quickly snapped to attention upon seeing who had come.

"Captain Mendez, good morning, ma'am."

Brownie seemed to find this amusing, as she simply laughed and waved him off.

"Good morning to you as well, First Lieutenant," she said, a grin still present on her face as she leaned against the door frame. "No need to be formal on my behalf, James. I only made Captain a month before you came on, so the feeling of someone standing to attention for me is rather new."

James smiled at this, and mirrored her position.

"Still can't believe we got assigned to the same unit, Emily," he said, "and I'm glad I'll be able to watch your six, now that I'm here. Though that only goes for in the air; after last time, I'm not pulling rear guard for any of your drunken shenanigans on the ground anymore."

That earned him a laugh, as well as a solid punch. He rubbed his now sore shoulder, but his shit-eating grin remained.

"That was one time!"

"Which nearly got both of us arrested, and kicked out of flight school."

"You got off easy-"

"-because I was some poor new guy the older cadets roped into one of their plans."

The glare he received at this was as effective as cutting through steel with a plastic spork.

"Feigning innocence, really?"

When he failed to be deterred, she gave up, and seemed eager to move the conversation on to less incriminating topics.

"Anyways-," she cleared her throat as he raised his eyebrow at her entirely unsubtle topical maneuvering. "_Anyways_, Knocker sent word at breakfast that our departure's been pushed back a day, and asked me to take the opportunity to get you more familiar with the Super Hornet since you and Clown are due any day now for your upgrades."

James followed her down the hallway of the barracks, nodding to a few of the other Mage squadron members as he passed their rooms. He got an interesting eyebrow waggle from Clown at the end of the hall, but merely shook his head at him.

"Clown must have some weird fetish for flight suits if he thinks we're going to be doing anything other than flying right now," he replied, when he saw Brownie's look of confusion.

She pinked at this, and looked away without response. James frowned, and reached out to stop her in front of the hanger door.

"Em, wait up."

She didn't immediately turn, but she also didn't throw off his hand.

"Em," he repeated, and after a few moments she looked back towards him, though she didn't quite meet his eye.

"Yeah?"

"Does Knocker know…?"

"...about us?"

She reached up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and he removed his hand.

"Kind of," she quickly held up her hand when he moved to comment. She quickly continued. "It only came up because he knew we went to school together and must've seen something when I said we were friends. All he asked was whether or not we would be able to fly together."

"And?"

She finally met his eyes, and she reached out to his arm. Speaking softly, she continued.

"And I told him that the past is the past, and that no matter what happened, there's no one else I'd rather have on my wing."

He smiled softly at this. She returned it, and briefly squeezed his arm before dropping her hand and gesturing towards the door.

Seeing him nod, she opened the door to the hangar, and turned to offer him a wicked grin

"C'mon, the birds are waiting for us, and I can't wait to be able to show you up."

* * *

**1930 16 May 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

"Bark, bark!"

"Jemma fetch!"

"Bark!"

With a swish of her golden tail, Jemma stole down the tarmac. The red-gold rays of the Sun's dying light shown magnificently on her beautiful coat, its sheen marred only by the remnants of dust and ash.

Cossette's smile fell. She was glad that Alma stood in front of her and could not see her face, as the younger girl had always loved Jemma and was overjoyed to see her again. She felt a hand rest on her arm, and looked to find Ionela, her classmate and good friend, as well as Alma's older sister, standing by her side.

The princess extended her arm, and the pair fell easily into a one-armed embrace. The two had lived together when they were younger, moved apart when her father took the throne, then reunited in secondary school, only to be torn apart once more by the death of Alma and Ionela's parents two years before. They had moved into the care of their grandfather, and had expected them to have moved somewhere quiet and peaceful, suitable for retirement.

Instead, she found them now where they had been for two years, at a top secret air base in the middle of the desert that had become the evacuation point for high level military officials and the royal family following the day's earlier attacks.

At this, she stiffened. Though the attacks had occurred only this morning, standing on the tarmac watching Alma play with Jemma made it feel as though it were already a distant memory.

Jemma, running with the ball now back in her possession, dropped the ball at Alma's feet and moved past toward her charge. A nudge and a soft whine was all it took to convince Cossette to kneel down and embrace her closest friend and steadfast companion - not that she ever needed convincing to do so - and once more, she found her worried melt away as the two sisters joined her embrace.

* * *

**0700 16 May 2019**

**Fort Grays Air Base, Fort Grays Island**

**7º58'25"S 9º25'50"W**

"So all of Golem Squadron's aircraft were F/A-18F Super Hornets that were upgraded late in their life cycle to the Block III upgrades, making them on par with the newest Advanced Super Hornets," Brownie explained. "I'm a little jealous, since Mage will be getting Advanced Super Hornets fresh off the factory line."

James smiled, then gestured back at the plane.

"What kinds of upgrades are we talking?" he asked.

"Conformal fuel tanks on the shoulders; a 9000+ flight hour airframe; upgraded Infrared Search and Tracking capability; integrated advanced network infrastructure; three enclosed, conformal, and cross-section reducing ordnance pods with four hardpoints each adapted from the F-22 program."

"Anything in the cockpit?"

"A twenty-one inch touchscreen display to replace the old tri-display and physical controls, and combat systems AI to replace the Combat Systems Officer in the two seater variant. They moved the stick and throttle to the new standardized position from the F-16, F-22, and F-35 of stick on the right side, throttle on the left side, leaving the center clear. Supposedly makes it easier to cross-train on different platforms, but I doubt they had you in mind when making that statement," she jibed.

James threw her a glare, but otherwise was too engrossed with the cockpit. He stepped inside and sat down, as Brownie perched herself on the ladder outside.

"Ready to put it through its paces?" she asked.

He smiled and nodded.

"Don't worry, give it a short time and I'll be back to shooting you down before you even knew I was there."

* * *

**Author's Note:** So I'm finally back with another update. Big thanks to Koburakilla for the review they left, and if you wanted to see this story continue, you should thank them as well. Their kind review was both a reminder and encouragement to keep working. As this chapter is titled, it is an interlude, but I do intend to continue with the main story as well.

The upgrades I described for the Super Hornet are very much real, either in actual form or working prototype form. The exceptions are the stick/throttle configuration, as well as the AI for combat systems; neither of those are real. If you would like to see the concept art someone made based on Boeing's Advanced Super Hornet model, head to my profile where I have provided the links.

Also, the joke at the beginning of the chapter is not mine, I heard it elsewhere. The two lines with Trigger _are_ mine.


	5. Chapter 5

"_**Unmanned fighters are no longer a dream.**_

_**Pilots taking to the skies will soon be a distant memory."**_

_**I'll tell you now, there's no good that'll come of that.**_

* * *

"**Go West, Young Man"**

**2200 17 May 2019**

**Fort Grays Air Base, Fort Grays Island**

**7º58'25"S 9º25'50"W**

Drones.

Unmanned, autonomous, combat-capable drones launched from the back of a cargo truck. Easily transported, easily replaced, and easily supported.

It was easy to understand why the Eruseans would pursue drone technology as intensely as they had. The country was facing populist movements desiring a more assertive and militant foreign policy, and much of the country was still reeling from repairs and reparations of the Continental War.

The only way for them to simultaneously support both sides would be drones, as they were offensively capable whilst causing little collateral damage, and in the event one of them was destroyed, no Erusean lives were lost in the process.

"I've been coming here for a couple years now, and while Maverick's has always had good beer, I never thought it would be worth several minutes of intense contemplation."

The interruption to James' reverie came from a smirking woman standing to his right against the bar, her head cocked to the side with an amused glint in her eye. Reminded of this particular evening's choice of libation, he glanced back down to realize that he had not even touched it after the first sip.

Emily had recommended it; while it was better than average (and certainly better than anything found from the base Naval Exchange), he had to agree, it was definitely not worth the amount of concentration that he had appeared to have given it.

"No, I suppose not," he replied, looking back at the newcomer. "It's still pretty good, though."

As that reply seemed enough to embolden her, she took the empty seat adjacent to him, from which Emily must have departed from while he had retreated into his thoughts.

"I'm Rachel," she said, offering her hand.

"James," he replied, taking her hand and shaking it once.

He returned the hand to his beer, raising with restored interest as he thought of something to say. Never good with meeting new people, but relatively sociable once comfortable, James had always relied on more outgoing friends to get him through the socially awkward minefield that was the first interaction. Later on, dating Emily had gotten him plenty of friends, as she was positively a social butterfly if there ever was one.

Speaking of, James heard her laugh and glanced over to the left, where she, Knocker, Clown, and one of the other members of Golem Squadron has commandeered a table for the night.

"Oh them? Pretty sure they're stationed at the airfield next island over," Rachel said, having apparently followed his gaze.

Knocker made it a point for everyone to wear civvies when going out, and it was smart not to draw that extra level of attention and scrutiny that service uniforms usually brought. That being said, it was also quite obvious from the tales that both Clown and Knocker were spinning that they were very much military, and very much pilots.

And so even though he was in civvies as well, James still found it somewhat amusing that he was not included in Rachel's assessment of the bar's current patrons.

Taking another sip of his beer, he met Emily's eyes, which immediately darted to the woman next to him. He snorted at the suggestive eyebrow she raised at him, though Rachel apparently misinterpreted it as she seemed to visibly deflate next to him.

She was fairly attractive, he had to admit. With light blue eyes, fair skin, long brown hair, and a pretty face, it was not her looks that turned him away from her.

"_It's poppin' off now, Trigger. The war has officially begun."_

He had never been able to take any sort of romantic relationship any less than seriously, and while for all he knew the woman next to him might only be looking for a one night stand, he just didn't function that way.

Probably having noticed his mood, Emily appeared to his left, a comforting arm wrapped around his waist. He barely registered Rachel walking off, as the full reality of their situation settled in for him.

"What have we gotten ourselves into, Em?"

Emily didn't respond at first, just sighing and leaning the side of her head against his. She opened her mouth to reply, but Clown beat her to it. A fatherly hand clapped his right shoulder, and as James looked up at his squadron leader, he saw a confliction of paternal pride, concern, and the general look of someone who had seen too much, and knew that they were yet to see more.

"A mess and then some Trigger, but we'll make it through."

* * *

**2230 17 May 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

As she lay in bed, her eyes towards the ceiling, but her gaze focused on subjects far beyond, the Princess of Erusea laid herself to rest. Yet Cossette lay wide awake, considering the words her father had spoken to her only hours before.

_His weary gaze came to rest upon her for only a moment before he drew her close to him, and she eagerly returned his tight embrace._

"_There is no stopping now; the war has officially begun. But even as our initial efforts have been met with great success, I cannot help but wonder, at the end of all this, if we will be ready to accept the future we will have wrought."_

Cossette had spent the last two hours poring over document after classified document, provided unredacted to her by her father.

"_Someday, you will be the one to lead our nation in my stead, and while I would prefer you to never know the reality of war, I know that you will be better for it in the end. It is my hope that you will learn to do only what is absolutely necessary for the good of our people, preferably without the loss of our humanity."_

The technology they had tested, how they had tested it, _who_ they had gotten it from; were it not for the loss of her beloved uncle to drink she would have gladly accepted its amnesic embrace. She was glad, now, they had taken the route they had, crippling infrastructure rather than people.

_For all that has come to benefit us_, Cossette thought miserably. Though not placed at the top of the pile, the document that had commanded her immediate attention upon perusal was the after action report entitled _Battle of Farbanti_. Within its pages she had found the remnants and wreckage of her home, and it was only through the gentle ministrations of her canine caretaker that she had finally stopped crying after several minutes.

It felt like an age ago, though it had been no more than three hours. Even still, the memory brought fresh tears to her eyes that threatened to spill over. They were intercepted quickly by the ever timely huff of her furry friend, who tired yet caring eyes now watched her. The hand that had been entangled in fur quickly moved to allow a full on embrace, as Jemme laid her head on her chest.

Though the tender moment was quickly interrupted by a sleepy yawn (if you own a dog, you know the one; the exaggerated maw, the ever so slight squeak, the tongue wetting of the nose), however it proved to be the perfect remedy for her blues, as Cossette stifled a giggle, followed by a sniffle, at her friend's sleepy actions.

Deeming her work to be finished, Jemma moved her head to shift more onto her side, facing away from Cossette, though her warm presence was still firmly pressed against her side.

And now Cossette lay there, gently running her fingers against her steadfast friend, and thought of nothing as she listened to the soft wheeze of Jemma's snore return. For a while, Cossette remained still, eyes closed, fingers now carefully splayed against her caretaker's side, and finally, she felt peace.

* * *

**1915 30 May 2019**

**OFS **_**Nicholas A. Andersen**_**, Southeastern Usean Coast**

**5º30'26"S 21º13'44"W**

"...we have you on radar. You are cleared for approach."

He responded, but he didn't hear it.

"Deck is clear; Mage 2 you are cleared for landing."

The Aircraft Carrier Control sounded miles away.

"Two miles to carrier; lower speed to 2-0-0; adjust heading 1-8-niner, maintain rate of descent."

His body complied, though he did not tell it to do so.

"One mile, you've got the ball."

"_They're everywhere!"_

"...touchdown, glad to see you made it back. We were worried about you guys."

"_I'm breaking up!"_

...

"_Skeleton Two, lost...no chute."_

"...for refueling then proceed back to base…"

"_Mage 2, support those retreating aircraft!"_

"Mage 2?"

"_Mage 2, support!"_

"Mage 2! Somebody get down there and check on him."

"_Trigger, please! Anybody?!"_

"...Trigger? Trigger!"

"_...Bandit is down."_

" Shit, he's in shock. Let's get him out of this."

"_Brownie!"_

"His blood pressure's dropping, we need to get an IV in him. He's likely dehydrated, as well."

"_Em, please…"_

"Get him on there, knees up, head back."

"_Not what I expected…"_

"Rest easy, Trigger, we got it…"

"_...but I guess I was hoping for a challenge."_

* * *

**0630 02 Jun 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

The sun had awoken her.

At least, that's what she had told her lady-in-waiting when she was found to be already awake. Her actual waking thought was of the title of one particular report that she had glossed over in her drowsiness, and only now did she understand (or think she understood) said report.

_DIM: COMINT Report_.

The Defensive Intelligence Ministry's Communications Intelligence Report had been the focus of her attention since she had awoken, and even now, just barely through the first section, she was beginning to grasp the implications of what she had read.

Erusean intelligence operatives had managed to access the secure Identify-Friend-or-Foe system propagated through Osean satellites, without Osean knowledge of the event. Furthermore, Erusean Air Force R & D, at the test facility which she was present at, were integrating the IFF into captured and reverse-engineered Osean aircraft.

Searching further in a referenced sub-section, she found that the flight systems of these aircraft had been replaced the same drone technology found in the MQ-99 and MQ-101 Unmanned Combat Air Vehicles.

The report also detailed DIM access to all Osean and IUN communications, though that finding seemed almost inconsequential (though still quite useful), when compared to the rest...

* * *

**0700 06 Jun 2019**

**Fort Grays Air Base, Fort Grays Island**

**7º58'25"S 9º25'50"W**

Every chance he had, he was there. Begging for her to come back.

"Thank you, Commander. I'll let him know."

James heard footfalls approaching from behind, but he did not turn back.

"Trigger?"

He felt Clown's hand on his shoulder, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"James…"

This time, Clown crouched as close to in front of him as he could.

"I just spoke to the Doc. She won't be flying anytime soon, but she's gone through the worst of it now."

I finally tore my eyes away, and met his eyes. He held my gaze, before sighing and pulling me into a hug.

"She's gonna make it, son."

He felt another hand on his other shoulder, and looked up, nodding at Knocker as he saw him.

"Come on, kid," he said, returning the nod. "She wouldn't want you here when you're needed elsewhere."

With one last look at Emily's unconscious form, laid to rest on the hospital bed, James squeezed her hand once more before turning away.

If he ever found that pilot, the Su-30 with orange wing tips, nothing in the world would save him.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I rewrote this chapter four separate times, all of them completely different from the other. This story is not already written, and from the different formats in previous chapters, it is obvious I am experimenting with my writing style. I believe now I have centered on the vignette style of writing as my preferred format. I don't like to do play-by-play style writing, which works well with this story since I intend for it to be a supplement to the story of Ace Combat 7, rather than a replacement novelization.

For this reason, I may rewrite Chapter 2, when I get around to it, since it was basically a play-by-play with commentary of the first mission, and also the chapter I am least happy with. I'd like to prioritize continuing the story before I get to that, though.

I've also linked the map of Strangereal I use for my location coordinates on my profile, if anyone is curious.

Until next time.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Pilots have been in my generation for four generations. Flying's in my DNA.**_

_**Even so, my Grandpa didn't want me joining the Air Force.**_

_**He lost faith in the Osean Air Defense the day my dad died in battle.**_

* * *

"**Reckoning"**

**0817 01 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

Perhaps he should have expected it. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps it was just pure, dumb luck. Or perhaps the world was slapping him right back with instantaneous, karmic justice.

His mother, before she had died, had always reminded him how being vengeful did the world no favors. In the military, bureaucracy reigns supreme, which means that _"it does not matter how much of an idiot the guy in charge of you is, you listen"_ and listen good.

If it's a mistake, go through the proper channels. If it's tedious, annoying, irritating, infuriating, or absolutely maddening, if there's nothing wrong with it, just keep your head down and move along. She said being vengeful may lead to another person's downfall, but it usually hurt you as well.

James could see his mother now, shaking her head, knowing that he had cursed and promised vengeance against the man who downed Emily, and was now paying the price. Karma had slapped him _hard_.

They had strung him up on the national stage, noose at the ready, to be hung at a moment's notice as soon as "due process" had been done. They had gone through all the necessary motions, and while doing so had made him a pariah to all those who had loved Former President Vincent Harling.

And there were many, many people who had loved Former President Vincent Harling, including the "impartial" judge who "did his constitutional and patriotic duty" by sentencing James for life to the Osean Military Penal System. Which had led to the 444th Air Base in the middle of nowhere, Zapland, Southeastern Usea.

And now he would learn good and well how to dispel any vengeful temptations, by way of example via the remarkable asshat pacing like a peacock in heat at the front of the room, one Colonel D. McKinsey. Since he'd never shared his first name, James just assumed the D stood for Dickhead.

Apparently he'd said the last part under his breath, because the inmate to his left forcefully exhaled,and the inmate to his right grinned and shook his head.

"Murderer or no, new guy's got jokes. Think you can shoot down Dickhead, too?"

James snorted, and shook his own head. Little though he did, it was apparently enough with perfect timing to catch the illustrious Colonel's attention.

"Well how about we start with you, Harling's murderer, since you seem so enthused to be here," McKinsey said. "Most of the prisoners have claimed the few working aircraft, so you'd better hope you find one that actually works."

* * *

**0030 01 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

Once she had properly explained to the watch officer that she was not, in fact, in trouble and that, yes, she was indeed only wearing the light shift she wore to bed (which she was quite aware was not entirely opaque given the distraction of the man's eyes from her face), her lady-in-waiting had been summoned to bring her something more solidly colored. When she returned with said garment, Cossette found herself relaying supplemental information for the control officer's commands whilst wearing a white fluffy robe.

She had no bunny slippers, though Jemma had been thoughtful enough to bring along the bunny chew toy she usually slept with. She was actually barefoot, but her furry companion had remedied this issue as well, and was now lying across her feet.

"You are sure it was larger, not just an IFF burst from an aircraft?"

"Quite," she replied. "Numerous IFF signals were present, in addition to a larger one that I cross referenced against the location marking signal of Oured International Airport's Air Traffic Control. They were nearly identical."

"So the Oseans have an airbase in Zapland," the control officer said. "Lieutenant, have you found anything?"

"Nothing yet, sir," he replied. "If we had even approximate coordinates, it would help - hold on, I think I've to something."

On the large screen at the front of the room, the satellite image became enlarged over a particular section of the Zapland coast. There was a flicker from the overlay that displayed various signal information, as a large location marker with several IFF signals popped into life for a few moments, just as she had described, before disappearing, just as with her own observation.

Curiously, unlike with her own first observation, the signals appeared once more only seconds later. But this time, they remained.

"Sir?"

"I see it, Lieutenant. Get those coordinates just in case they decide to disappear on us again," the control officer ordered. "And send them off to command when able."

As the man gave his orders, Cossette considered the anomaly in front of them. The Erusean hacking had primarily allowed communications access, and their immediate success had also backfired as soon as the Osean military had noticed the pattern of communications and successful Erusean strikes, changing their communication patterns and coding them.

And while they had been able to successfully spoof IUN IFF signals, military intelligence had had very limited success with consistently detecting IUN air assets outside of normal radar.

So why would this base display its position for all to see?

The question was asked aloud by the officer besides her just a moment later.

"It could be a system malfunction," she replied.

"True," he said. "We can send reconnaissance as well before committing any strike group to it. That way if it is a trap of some sort, we'll hopefully know before we get there."

* * *

**0600 02 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usean Continent**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

"Rise and shine, convict! It's time for the national anthem!"

James snorted once the guard had moved on from his personal sleeping closet, otherwise known as solitary, to the next cell in the block. In his short time since arriving at the prison, he had quickly learned that the "national anthem" was not actually the Osean Federation National Anthem, but a replacement in the form of the latest Erusean propaganda speech, staring the darling of the world news media, her highness Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise.

Apparently the warden had convinced McKinsey that it would be a suitable punishment for the convicts to be forced to stand at attention in the main hall, whilst being treated to the finest propaganda Erusea had to offer. James just thought he was a pervert.

And apparently he'd said that as well, as...Champ? Champ and his roomate Tabloid to his right started snickering, and he heard a cough or two from who he believed to be High Roller and Full Band, if he remembered correctly.

"Man might be a pervert, but I gotta say, at least he's got good taste," High Roller whispered.

Champ didn't even bother whispering, which didn't really matter due to the warden's undivided devotion to the image on the screen.

"Shit, man, she's _fine_."

"I even heard she's eighteen," High Roller replied.

Now, James was twenty-one, so he felt alright admitting that the Princess was rather attractive. But he was pretty sure that, with the exception of Tabloid, the other men present were at least thirty, making the comments a rather creepy. He figured he should say something, but then had a better idea.

Selecting his target, he leaned over to Champ. "You know, I heard that the Erusean government is just _saying_ she's eighteen to get as many recruits as they can to feel patriotic and sign up for the military. I heard she may actually be as young a fifteen."

"Wait, what?" High Roller leaned in now, and James could see Full Band shaking his head to High Roller's left.

Surprisingly, Tabloid jumped in. Though perhaps he should give him more credit, given how well he had performed as a wingman the day before.

"Yeah," Tabloid picked up, "all these videos are pre-recorded, right? No one does anything like this live. They record it first, then edit it to make it look perfect before sending it out. Who's to say they don't make her look older before sending it out?"

By now, James noticed that, even though no one had turned, their conversation now had the attention of most of the squadron.

"I can confirm that," Full Band pitched in. "In fact, this video we're watching now, that the media is showing off as 'breaking news' is actually anywhere between three to five days old."

"But how do you know?" High Roller asked.

"He was the one who knew that Trigger murdered Harling before McKinsey even told us, remember?" Tabloid replied.

Ouch, Tabloid. _Allegedly_ murdered. And I thought we were doing so well.

"Fuck, man! Girl's hot, but I ain't no pedophile!" Champ said.

"Hold up," Higher Roller interjected. "Who's to say she isn't eighteen? I mean, how do we know for sure?"

"How much you want to bet?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he had _everyone's_ attention. By now, the video was over, and the warden had left them to their meager allotment of free time until the Colonel decided to assign them to sand raking duty. Everyone turned to him and High Roller, who now had a calculating grin on his face.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you," High Roller continued. "I mean besides taking care of all those planes for us yesterday, you're a regular man after my own heart."

_Or I'm completely tugging you along, creating a ridiculous argument over this poor girl's age so that you realize just how creepy it is._

"How 'bout a better bet? Since Trigger's such a hot shot over here, going after any plane he can, how you want to bet he gets shot down before the next mission is over?"

"Here we go…" High Roller muttered under his breath.

Spare 2, Count, pushed through the group from his place in the front line until he was right in front of where James was standing, a pronounced sneer present on his face.

James wasn't exactly surprised. From the moment he had stepped foot into 444th Air Base, Count had had an issue with him. He hadn't expected prison to be friendly, especially for criminals convicted during war time, and oddly enough, Count was really the only one behaving how he had expected in the midst of a group of pleasant surprises.

High Roller couldn't pay off his gambling debt; Champ had a hot temper and punched the guy who was sleeping with his now ex-girlfriend; Tabloid was an anarchist who made the wrong move at the wrong time at a protest; even Full Band, who was actually military beforehand, was just an intelligence technician who enjoyed his gossip a little too much. The rest of the group were a similar case, and the only one who had genuinely scared Trigger, Spare 1, was a murderer (actually, not allegedly) who met his end during the most recent bombing raid.

But Count, convicted of fraud, had a chip on his shoulder. Maybe it was daddy issues, maybe it was generalized insecurity. Whatever the issue, it had for reasons unknown to him, centered on Trigger, the new guy.

"And you know what the reward is?" He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "This! Found it after it slipped out of your pocket on the way to the runway yesterday. Look at this boys, Harling's murderer has got a girlfriend!"

James quickly patted his breast pocket, and after finding it empty as well as seeing the paper passed around the other Spare Squadron members, he realized that Count had snatched the picture of Emily he had managed to sneak into the base after he had been convicted.

"Damn, man, you're a lucky man," Champ said, trying to pass it back to him, but Count got there first, and snatched it back.

"Uh, uh, uh, Trigger's got to be the top ace of the squadron _and_ make it through the next mission if he wants to see his girlfriend again!" Count sneered, before starting to walk away.

"Yeah, like that'll happen. He inflates his kill counts so high it's not even remotely believable, but McKinsey laps it right up so he can pass it up to command," Tabloid said. "Sorry, Trigger."

He just shrugged, and was cut off of any further reply by the warden giving them their daily assignment.

* * *

**1200 02 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

When Cossette had shown up to the control room at 0700 in a service uniform, hair neatly in a bun, and a stack of reports in one hand, coffee in the other, the control officer had taken one look at her, spared a moment to chuckle and shake his head, and then proceeded to provide her an unused computer desk.

She had spoken to her father the night before about the control officer's offer, and while he had initially been hesitant, he had agreed after she discussed her research and in depth study of the intelligence reports they had been receiving. What had begun as civic duty combined with relief of boredom, had become a rapt interest in the overall management of the war effort.

Always a top student in class, Cossette had always felt pressure to perform well academically due to her royal lineage. Now, however, she dedicated herself not for any societal obligation, but to save lives and genuinely shape and change the war effort.

Her work was different now, and it felt different. She was working for the benefit of others, and it drove her to such a vigorous pursuit of knowledge and understanding that she had been forced, by both her lady-in-waiting and her dear friend Ionela, to at the very least take Jemma out for extended walks on the base grounds as much needed relief for her persistent shadow, as well as herself.

Ionela in particular had been irate to find that Jemma, normally the epitome of canine composure, had resorted to relieving herself in the shower due to Cossette's negligence. It was after Alma had taken Jemma to dutifully dote on her that Ionela had rounded on Cossette, declared she was forbidden from working for the rest of the day, and dragged her to the rec area for some, in hindsight, much needed rest and relaxation.

This had occurred a week after she had begun to delve into the reports, and she had gotten better; though the two Shilage sisters had taken to continuing their own studies in her room at least part of the day, lest they not see her at all.

And so it was this memory that suppressed any surprise she might have had as she stretched in her chair to find Ionela sitting beside her, tapping a finger against her desk expectantly.

"Have you been sitting there a while?"

"I came in an hour after you," Ionela said. "I couldn't find you in your room, so I asked around until I got to you here. I brought my work, since I knew you would be busy, and though I would like to deny it, I'm not surprised you haven't noticed me until now. And actually-."

She stood abruptly, walking over to the control officer and handing him a 5 note bill. Upon her return, Cossette stared at her expectantly, only to receive a shrug.

"What? I had bet that you wouldn't notice me until he forced you to take a break to eat, and he bet you would have to do something at some point that would cause you to notice me as a result," Ionela explained, a single eyebrow raised in amusement.

She looked back in the control officer's direction.

"Though I think he was expecting something more royal in nature, rather than a simple stretch," she said, pausing as she sighed melodramatically. "But, credit where credit is due."

Cossette chuckled softly and shook her head at her friend's antics, but her own amusement was cut short upon being reminded of her actual 'royal' duties.

"Where are you going?" Ionela asked as Cossette stood. "Alma wanted to eat and play this afternoon."

"I'm sorry, I've forgotten a speech recording I must attend to," she explained. "Thank you for reminding me, and please let Alma know that we can play tonight or tomorrow."

"It's going to be tonight."

She was right, of course; Alma's pleading eyes were an unstoppable force to be reckoned with. If not for the obvious danger and moral outrage of placing a twelve year old on a battlefield, Alma would likely have seen widespread deployment as a measure to immediately stop any battle in its tracks.

"And she'll want Jemma."

The snoozing pup perked up at her name, and with Cossette's smile and nod of assent, she placed a wet boop on Cossette's leg before moving to Ionela's side. With a pet goodbye for her furry friend, she quickly packed her items and handed her current report to the control officer, who nodded his thanks before stopping her as she walked away.

"Your Highness?"

She turned to respond, just in time to register an object approaching her face, and caught it with only minor difficulty. Though her expression must have been quite amusing as many of the normally neutral-faced and disciplined intelligence technicians were chuckling to themselves. The object in question, upon inspection, was a protein bar. Ionela's mock, yet semi-serious glare answered Cossette's unspoken question as to its origin.

"If you don't eat that, I'll find a nurse and have you intubated."

* * *

**2200 02 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usean Continent**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

"Hey Trigger, I got you something."

James looked up from his place in his bunk to see Tabloid come in just as light's out was called. He had a small piece of paper in his hand, and from what James could tell, it seemed to be a picture of someone.

"I know it may not be as good, but I pawned off one of the guard's newspapers just for something to read, and I got another picture for you to keep for luck."

Taking the paper from him, he could see now that it was a portrait, likely from an interview, of the Princess of Erusea. She was smiling kindly, poised and graceful for the camera. He idly wondered if she had been trained to always look like that, or if it was an act put on purely for public functions. Seeing that Tabloid was eyeing him, expecting some reaction, he snorted, raising it up in thanks.

As Tabloid shook his head with a smirk, he took one last look at the Princess, or Cossette, as the small caption quote insisted she be called, and decided that he'd better hide it in his pocket regardless, so as to not get caught with 'contraband' or some other made up crime by a particularly petty guard. Though, he admitted, he really couldn't really complain about having it, and grudgingly admitted once more that he agreed with the other guys earlier today in their assessment of her appearance.

Returning once more to his inner thoughts, and reminded of the day's earlier events, James was somewhat troubled by his response to Count's goading, or lack thereof, particularly since it had involved Emily. Thinking back even further, he realized that even with his trial and assignment to the penal base, to the scathing treatment from McKinsey, to the unwarranted placement in solitary, he hadn't really felt, well, _anything_.

When Emily had gone down, he had responded by simultaneously exploding and imploding emotionally. While his explosive outburst (which he only actually knew about once Clown had told him) had ended rather quickly, the near catatonia of his implosive retreat within himself had left him nearly nonverbal until he had arrived at 444th Air Base.

Even on the bench in court, he had answered with one word responses, acknowledging and denying as appropriate, all the while knowing that nothing he said would save him. In the eyes of the whole world, he had been hung the moment an IUN pilot had declared the missile had come from him.

Or as the official court evidence had shown, "an OADF designated F/A-18F with IUN reporting IFF, and flight data reporting missile launch with such proximity that the only possible candidate for the missile's launch would have been OADF F/A-18F tail-flash Foxtrot-Golf-0-1-5, Fort Grays Air Base assigned aircraft callsign Mage 2, tac-name Trigger; that is, one 1st Lt. James Marietta Beckett."

Once that particular finding had been shared, he knew his fate was sealed, and he stopped caring; caring where he was assigned, or if the whole world thought him a traitor and a murderer; caring whether he held his tongue, or keeping his sarcasm and snark at bay; caring whether he should have pulled 9Gs in an F-4E Phantom, one that only a month prior had been entirely scrapped; caring whether he had four missiles actively locked and pursuing him the day before; caring if it really mattered if he got hit by all four at once.

He had apologized to the mechanic, once he had landed. She had apparently watched despite the bombing, to "make sure you dumbasses didn't fuck up my planes." Avril was her name, a unique name for a uniquely gifted individual in the art of viscerally tearing someone a new one.

He'd snickered at her 'admonishment' to Count of overtaxing his aircraft, but his own five-minute lecture had been waiting close at hand, and had been delivered with such vigor and fervor that he had flashed back to basic training, and getting laid out by drill sergeants. And when he tried to compliment her on her craft, she'd been walking away, and didn't even bother to turn as she saluted him with the universal finger of love.

Tabloid himself was in love, he later declared, though James couldn't be sure whether he was seriously infatuated, or if his wingman was busting his balls for having been roasted so thoroughly.

The thought of another early start tomorrow begged him off of any further musings on his current mental status, and leaned back onto his side to sleep. One hand covering his left breast pocket, just in case someone tried to steal from him again.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Oh my God, Mother Goose One has been shot down."_

"_It was Mage 2! He shot the missile!"_

"_Stop speculating, talk it out."_

"_Mage 1, was it Trigger?"_

"_I...don't know, Knocker."_

"_All units, Arsenal Bird _Liberty_ has entered the AO. Retreat immediately. Mage 2, you are on lockdown pending further investigation. Golem and Gargoyle squadrons, form up on Mage 2 and escort back to base."_

* * *

"_The operation to rescue Former President Harling has failed. Sadly, there is no hope he survived. Trigger, you are suspected of assassinating the former president. There will be an inquiry. There will most probably be a court-martial."_

* * *

"_He can't have done that, James would never do that. You know that!"_

"_I want to say I do, Emily, but he was the only one who could have done it. He was flying closer than he ever should have been, but I knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be him."_

"_You should've seen it, Brownie. The kid held off a whole swarm of drones going after Harling. He was good, I'll give him that. Just wish I had told him that before all this."_

"_Don't talk about him like he's too far gone. You don't believe he did it, do you?"_

"_I don't know. You two know him better, and if you say he would never have done it, then I'm inclined to believe you. What I'm not so sure about is if it happened by accident. The damn drones were so erratic, there one moment then gone the next. Who's to say Trigger didn't fire at one, only for the missile to swerve into the transport while going after a drone? What if the drones were programmed to do exactly that?"_

"_James would've avoided that!"_

"_I know it doesn't sound good, but I can see where Knocker's coming from, Emily. In any other case, I'd rule it out without hesitation. But he was just so close…"_

* * *

"**Knock Knock"**

**2130 04 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

"A tunnel. He flew through a fucking tunnel." That sounded like Avril.

"I call bullshit." Love you too, Count.

"What do you mean you call bullshit? You were right there!" Thank you, Tabloid.

After dipping in status for his murderer comment, his unofficial wing man had redeemed himself earlier that day. Tabloid had kept most of the intercepting aircraft off of him, leaving him free to go after ground targets. The anarchist looked up at him when he walked around the corner into the 'rec area' they had created from a crate and some folding chairs.

"Speak of the devil! You flew through that tunnel, right Trigger?"

"Why would he deny it, if his fame is being propped up by it?"

"Count, you're the only one who makes stuff up here to feel better about yourself. You're just bitter you didn't think to do it."

James sat down at the empty chair; Tabloid across from him, Count to his left, Avril to his right. He opted to ignore the bickering men for now, and turned to the mechanic, who was staring at him appraisingly.

"So thanks for fixing up that Su-34 for me," he started.

"I swear, if you scraped the wings going through that tunnel-."

"-whoa, slow down. Just a couple bullet holes. Didn't you look at it?"

"Forgive me," though she did not appear at all apologetic; the eye roll was a good indicator. "Last time you tried to compliment my work, you had overridden the fly-by-wire G-force limiter and attempted a 9G rapid deconstruction."

He raised his hands up, and tried to look at least somewhat apologetic.

"Stop faking, you look like you're constipated."

She glared at his chuckle, but seemed to mildly approve of his presence. At least enough to toss him a water bottle from beside the crate.

"Well since you didn't completely tear up your plane," she raised her own bottle, "cheers."

He raised his own, and gladly took his first sip of unquestionably clean water in weeks. The Colonel had wanted to just toss all of them into solitary, but oddly enough, Band Dog had stood up for them, pointing out that Trigger, with Tabloid's help, had destroyed pretty much all of the ground facilities at Roca Roja. Even Count, annoying as he was, had put a pretty good dent in their air assets, both manned and unmanned.

The Colonel had chewed them out for using the supplies intended for 'real' troops, but had let them go in the end.

"And I didn't get to your plane because I've been too busy putting Champ's back together. His wings looked like a cheese grater."

"Well it's a good thing we've got the Scrap Queen, then."

The look of abject disgust she directed towards Tabloid cause both him and Count to burst out laughing.

"Geez, Tabloid, if I had known you were such a lady killer, I'd have come to you a long time ago," Count snarked.

James laughed at this, but his amusement turned to irritation as Count sent him a glare. Avril shook her head and stood, taking another bottle of water with her.

"If you flyboys can pull your heads out of your cockpits, let me know. Otherwise, some of us actually have work to do."

Count just chuckled again; James refrained this time, both to avoid Count and because he thought he saw something in Tabloid's eyes, watching her go. But as quickly as it had appeared, they returned to their normal mysterious, mischievous glow, and joined Count in his amusement.

* * *

**0730 05 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

"Everyone here? Good, let's get started."

Cossette looked around the briefing table. They were sat in a U-shape at a rectangular table, the one long-side left empty to allow proper viewing of the briefing screen. She sat at the center, beside her father, who had actually sent for her to attend, only to find she was already there, having been asked by the control officer to attend. She returned her attention to the man as he continued his briefing.

"At 1900 last night, an OADF strike squadron attacked the air and ground facilities stationed at Roca Roja, Southeastern Usea."

This was the first she had heard of this attack. Alma had begged Cossette to play with her last night, to make up for her not keeping her promise the other day.

"Unfortunately, reports indicate that most, if not all ground assets are a total loss. However, the pilot who destroyed the facilities also either ignored or deliberately spared the fleeing troop carriers and transports leaving the area. As a result, the overall number of casualties is quite low, and even then, most were incapacitated, with very few fatalities."

"I'm sorry, going back a moment; did you say 'pilot?' As in, a single pilot eliminated all of our facilities?" one of her father's advisors asked.

"I did," the officer replied, shifting the screen's image from a map of Roca Roja to two close up images of a single aircraft. "Thanks to the high number of surviving troops, many of the media techs in the troop carriers to pictures of the strike squadron that attacked. They were highly unusual, starting with this one here."

He highlighted the left image, which showed the aircraft in question diving towards the ground, allowing them to view inside the cockpit.

"For those not familiar with aircraft, allow me to explain: this is a Su-34 strike aircraft, derived from the Su-27 line of aircraft as an agile supersonic bomber. It was designed as strictly a two person craft, as the act of flying and accurately bombing targets at the same time, while also dodging incoming fire, is extremely challenging."

"Yet this pilot managed to fly it entirely on his own, and it is unlikely he was aided by targeting AI; the reason for that conclusion will become clear later. He was accompanied by a Mirage 2000-5, who was able to aid in preventing our own aircraft from successfully striking the Su-34."

He highlighted the right image, focused now on the tail of the aircraft.

"This brings is to several peculiarities. The first: the three white slashes across the tail flash of this aircraft. Images of the other squadron aircraft showed varying numbers of slashes from one to two, with this aircraft being the only aircraft with three."

"Next: a distinct lack of unit cohesion, both in terms of formation and equipment. Reports indicate aircraft present included an Su-33, an F-16, an F/A-18 Super Hornet, a Mig-29, and the aforementioned Mirage 2000 and Su-34, amongst others. The only two members that maintained a continuous flight formation were the Mirage 2000 and Su-34, and intercepted radio chatter supports this."

He brought up the last slide, which had various transcriptions from the intercepted radio chatter.

"The full radio transcript can be found in my full report. The overall takeaway is this: the group that attacked us yesterday were designated as Spare Squadron. Further investigation of the radio chatter between their AWACS and the squadron lead us to suspect that this is a penal unit. Messages sent just as they entered the AO indicate their mission was to soften our defenses, either by taking them out or acting as distractions."

"That's horrible," Cossette whispered, though the man heard it and gave her a sympathetic glance.

"It seems they were ultimately sent with little regard to their well being, with multiple comments from their handler indicating they could 'redeem themselves' by performing well or getting shot down."

"We had initially thought that the slashes on the planes, or strikes as we now know they are called, were an indicator of seniority or leadership status, making the one with three strikes, or Spare 15, their leader."

He switched slides again, more transcriptions displayed, with one in particular highlighted.

"However, it seems to be based on the severity of their crime. In particular, because they referred to the one with three strikes as 'Harling's murderer' and 'President killer.'"

"So they skipped the death penalty, only to send him on suicide missions until he dies," another advisor said. "Is this the same squadron from the failed bombing run at Zapland? We had believed it to be a penal base as well, after analysing the combat data and radio chatter."

"It would seem so," the officer replied. "Reviewing flight recorders from that day would indicate that the same pilot was also present that day, as the same tail flash and markings were painted on an F-4 Phantom. As such, I would recommend that we designate any plane bearing three strikes as a high priority target, to be eliminated with extreme prejudice."

"But why eliminate him?" an advisor asked. "He killed the former president, and now has been all but condemned to die. We should all but give him a medal; figure out a way to get him to our side, and why would he stay where he is, and his skill would be ours to command. This is a pilot who could turn the tide of the war."

"True," another advisor agreed, "but how would we contact him? And even more so, how do we know where his loyalties lie? For all we know, he has no allegiance, and is a cold-blooded killer."

"I don't think so."

Cossette spoke almost before she even realized it. Seeing all eyes on her, she hurried to explain.

"Why would he spare - or admittedly, possibly ignore - all of those people at Roca Roja if he were simply a killer?"

"While that may be the case," a general said, "the best course of action would be to lure him to our side, then once the war has reached its conclusion, to either send him back to Osea, or otherwise dispose of him."

There was generalized muttering and discussion around the table, but Cossette ignored it and turned to her father, whose face held an unreadable expression. After a few moments of contemplation, he spoke.

"Our first priority should be determining their next course of action. If we know where they will be next, we can plan accordingly. As for this plane with three strikes: our primary objective is incapacitation or elimination; capture only if possible and at minimal risk to our own people. If there is some way to make contact with them, these priorities may change, but only as the situation develops."

"Keep me apprised of any further developments; this meeting is now adjourned."

* * *

**1215 05 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

The rest of the squadron of the squadron was in 'remediation tactics' classes for the day for their performance on the last mission. That is, remediation for those who had survived it. A couple Spare Squadron members he hadn't really interacted with had not made it back, and High Roller had been recovered, but was in critical condition and had been MEDEVACed to Osea.

Count had apparently decided that sleeping was better than antagonizing him, and Tabloid had 'gone for a walk,' likely in the direction of the maintenance hangar. This situation found James by himself in an abandoned hangar on the airbase, and he had decided to use his unexpected free time by messing around with the 'gift' Full Band had slipped him before the remediation class.

"_It's a little old, but I gave it some of my own _improvements_ for your enjoyment. Consider it repayment for keeping those drones off me yesterday."_

He hadn't yet found evidence of those improvements, and Full Band hadn't mentioned any explicitly, but "a little old" was a bit of an understatement: it was one of those military hard case laptops, except it had probably entered service more than fifteen years ago.

Did it even have Wi-Fi? He doubted the base would even allow the connection if it did, but maybe that was one of the alleged improvements. The 'home' page was a mess of icons that probably made sense to whoever designed them, but gave no indication of their intended function to anyone who hadn't.

He clicked on what might've been a connection icon, and was rewarded with a list of what appeared to be connection options. There seemed to be indications of connection strength and whether the connection was locked or not, but the names were all random character strings.

The best connection was locked, but maybe Full Band's modifications would come through? He figured he may as well try. Upon attempting to connect, the expected credential entry prompt appeared. However, the fields were auto-filled and entered before he could even read them, and before he could comprehend what had just happened, he had internet. Now what to do?

* * *

**1230 05 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

Following the morning's briefing, Cossette had returned to her now normal duties of aiding with intelligence efforts whilst completing her royal responsibilities of recording speeches and maintaining morale.

Her intelligence duties primarily involved the monitoring of IFF and radar signals in Southeastern Usea, with particular attention paid to the penal base in Zapland that had tricked their bombers and fighters. She had felt some remorse for their losses, given that she had been the one to point out the base; Ionela had quickly dissuaded her of responsibility, though, when she pointed out that the attack had continued even after reconnaissance had been conducted, and had concluded that the base was not well defended.

After the battle at Roca Roja, they had assigned her and a night shift intelligence tech to constantly monitor radar feeds from their existing installations in various parts of southeastern Usea. So now she watched, and had been instructed to alert the intelligence officer who oversaw her work of any IFF signals that began to head further into Usea.

The penal base had ceased their IFF broadcast a few days after the attempted bombing of the airfield, likely once it became apparent that their trap would not be sprung twice. So it was with some surprise that Cossette looked back to her screen to see that a signal was broadcasting once more from the base. What made her hesitate to report it was the fact that it was alone in its broadcast, no other signals from the base had appeared, and that the signal was for an IP address, not an IFF or radar signature.

Puzzled by this, she contemplated her next course of action. Should she report it immediately, or attempt to investigate further before deciding if it was worth reporting? While the intelligence officer had been very patient and helpful with teaching her to perform these duties, she still did not want to take up any more of his time than she already had when he had to be focused on the plethora of information they received every minute.

Her mind decided, Cossette opened a secure connection and entered the IP address, trusting that the intelligence command center's firewalls would prevent any potential hacking attempt. Her investigation only confused her further when, upon connecting with the address, it disappeared from the signal map, despite her screen displaying a successful connection.

* * *

**1235 05 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

James had been tempted to try and contact Emily or even Clown, but had decided against it in the end due to the risk of it might involve for their careers should it be discovered they had somehow communicated with him. Not to mention he had no idea how he would have even accomplished the task, since the main screen of hieroglyphs remained just as unhelpful in their design as they had been before.

So he had settled on the brute force method of just clicking through all of them one by one. He had gotten through the first three, which included what seemed like two other menus of settings, in addition to the third which held the connection information. Clicking on the fourth, he was rewarded with a text prompt that displayed 'Establishing secure connection, please wait.' Connection to what, he had no idea, but with any luck it would be the internet, so at least he wouldn't be so bored.

It took a couple of minutes, during which time he was able to find allowed to browse elsewhere on the computer and happened upon a folder filled with old classic rock albums, likely Full Band's work as well. Listening with headphones that Full Band had managed to procure as well, he waited, and eventually, the message changed to 'Secure connection established.'

He waffled for a moment, wondering what he could even do. The universe seemed to have made up its mind for him, however, as he was greeted by a single word that appeared on the screen.

'Hello?'

His shock had not yet subsided when a second message was received.

'Is anyone there?'

Yea or nay...why not? Not like he could get in much more trouble than he already was.

'Knock knock.'


	8. Chapter 8

_While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,_

_As of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._

"'_Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door—_

_ Only this and nothing more."_

_\- _The Raven_, Edgar Allen Poe_

* * *

"**Who's There?"**

**1235 05 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

'Knock knock.'

Cossette couldn't help but stare for a moment, completely startled by the seeming non sequitur. Any further thought on the matter was interrupted by the intelligence officer arriving in front of her station.

"It's been a while since anything came up on the radar, Your Highness. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? We can monitor the situation, and you've been quite busy with all the work you've taken upon yourself."

Normally, she would have objected, as this was not the first day that the intelligence officer had suggested she retire early. She was not offended, as she knew that the man had good intentions, but she could not help a feeling of abandoning her post, her duty, if she were to do so.

This feeling was entirely absent in light of the recent development, and Cossette quickly thanked him, though she closed the computer she worked on and took it with her. Heading back to her room, she was eager to continue her investigation of this stranger. After changing from her uniform into more comfortable clothes (she had taken to wearing a too-large long-sleeve shirt and sleep shorts to bed in case she decided to forego forethought and rush down the halls in the middle of the night again), she quickly sat on her bed, the computer set open on her lap. Deciding on a simple course of action, she played along with the message she had received.

'Who is there?'

A pause.

'How about a game? You guess. I'll even give you three guesses,' they replied.

Caught between frustration and intrigue, she quickly responded.

'That is hardly a fair game, considering I only just met you.'

'All is fair in love and war.'

She huffed in irritation at their non-answer. _A philosopher and a smart-alec._

'Since frustrating me is hardly an endearing strategy, can I assume you are involved in the war?' she asked, nevermind that she knew exactly where the signal came from.

If the person on the other end was at the penal base, then perhaps they would be willing to give her information. But how to convince them?

'Half of the world is involved in the war. One strike.'

She bit her lip in concentration. If they were low level personnel, they would not be of much use. But how could she ascertain their position?

'Are you an officer?'

'I wish I had an office; it would probably have air conditioning. Two strikes.'

On the face of it, a denial, but in truth, another non-answer. Perhaps they would still converse with her even after their 'game' was up?

'Are you a pilot?'

'I have been known to enjoy a good flight. Three strikes, you're out.'

"_We had initially thought that the slashes on the planes, or strikes as we now know they are called, were an indicator of seniority or leadership status, making the one with three strikes, or Spare 15, their leader."_

"_However, it seems to be based on the severity of their crime. In particular, because they referred to the one with three strikes as 'Harling's murderer' and 'President killer.'"_

Could it be him? It could all be just a coincidence, but what if…?

"_As such, I would recommend that we designate any plane bearing three strikes as a high priority target, to be eliminated with extreme prejudice."_

"_But why eliminate him… this is a pilot who could turn the tide of the war."_

The pilot who shot down President Harling? Who spared so many lives at Roca Roja?

"_For all we know, he has no allegiance, and is a cold-blooded killer."_

"_I don't think so...why would he spare - or admittedly, possibly ignore - all of those people at Roca Roja if he were simply a killer?"_

Would he help them? Would he even consider it?

Frantically, she searched the computer's files for anything related to Harling's death. The first result was an archive of an Osean news article on the subject of the court martial for the murder of Former President Harling. Scanning the article, Cossette found what she was looking for.

'James?'

The cursor blinked, once, twice, three times-

'How the hell do you know my name?'

Cossette released the breath she did not know she was holding, simultaneously relieved that she had caught his attention - as well as his admission - but she also knew that now begun the difficult task of convincing him to help.

'First Lieutenant James Marietta Beckett, Osean Air Defense Forces (formerly). I am Princess Rosa Cossette D'Elise, Kingdom of Erusea.'

Her mother had once admonished her for being too trusting and too bold, _"a potentially dangerous combination, my little rose."_ It had been so long ago, perhaps the lesson had simply been forgotten.

'Bullshit. You must think you're hilarious. Who are you, besides someone who obviously thinks too highly of themselves?'

Her mind failed to conjure a method by which she might convince him, and she began to panic. She returned to the computer's files, and opened the second result, hoping that there might be something she could offer as both proof and an olive branch.

_DIM Report: Operation Silver Dagger_

_Intelligence operatives have confirmed the successful installation of a spoof Osean IFF aboard a reproduction F/A-18F Super Hornet equipped with unmanned drone capability and MQ-99 combat software. It is our intention to produce more of these in the hope of infiltrating enemy air space and eliminating potential targets of opportunity. The necessary budget requested is…_

_Addendum:__ Operation Success. Former Osean President Vincent J. Harling has been successfully assassinated utilizing an F/A-18F Super Hornet drone. The Oseans believe the true culprit to have been one of their own…_

* * *

**1240 05 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

Any mirth James might have held at the conversation with his new found 'friend' quickly disappeared as soon as they said his name. He was mentally hitting himself for having admitted to it, considering he had no idea who this person might be or whose side they were on.

And then they had the audacity to say they were the Princess of Erusea. His hand had gone to the pocket of his flight suit which held her picture, as he snorted at the thought of some overweight guy in his basement with a hard-on for the princess trying to catfish him for information.

'I may be able to help you. Please, allow me to explain.'

'And how's that?'

'I know who killed Former President Harling. And I know that you were not the one to do so.'

This made James pause. While Tabloid had grown on him, and Avril was pleasant enough when she wasn't glaring holes into your skull for messing with her planes, James knew that he wouldn't hesitate to get out of here if he could. And this person was claiming they knew who had framed him.

'What evidence do you have? And regardless, how do I know I can trust you? What do you get out of this?'

The music he'd been listening to had long faded to the background in his mind, but he could have sworn he had heard someone - a girl - talking, and he knew that was not a part of any AC/DC song he had ever heard.

Pausing the music, he quickly checked the hangar around him, only to confirm that it was indeed empty. Also, the only other girl he had seen on the entire base was Avril, so he was fairly certain that he was alone on his end. Had it come from…?

Unbeknownst to James, a prompt in the upper right corner now displayed a status message: 'Initializing…'

**1245 05 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

In her total focus, Cossette had missed Jemma waking up from her nap and interpreting her charge's current position on the bed as their customary position for cuddle time. Her furry friend had placed her head on the keyboard, right where her head would usually be located on the princess' lap for some - normally - well deserved pets and scratches.

"Jemma, I love you dearly, but look at the mess you have created," Cossette said, pointing at the keyboard smash of text that had appeared, and had apparently been sent to her correspondent. She sighed exasperatedly at her confused yet apologetic companion, who had begun desperately nuzzling her for forgiveness.

"It is all right, I know you did not intend to do this."

"What the…"

Her head snapped to her door, but the door remained closed with no one in sight, which meant…

"Oh."

"So I guess you really are the princess."

* * *

**1245 05 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

Surprise seemed too tame concept to describe the emotion he felt when James found the _Princess of Erusea_ sitting on the other side of this conversation he had been having, and the rollercoaster of emotions he had been riding finally caused him to snap.

"So I guess you really are the princess."

And he began laughing, and laughing. He could see that she remained stock still, seemingly shocked into silence at the situation, but his laughter continued, because how could he blame her? Harling's supposed murderer, conversing with the Princess of Erusea, who had offered to help clear his name, which in some circles would likely be tantamount to treason.

All the while, the grand reveal had involved not a shred of pomp and circumstance that usually accompanied those of royal stature. Instead, he was greeted by the esteemed princess sitting on what looked like her bed, sans any of her usual television/propaganda make-up, hair mussed from an affectionate golden retriever taking over her lap, in a grey shirt with a collar so large it fell off her shoulder on one side, and black sleep shorts with what looked like - were those bones? They had looked like bows at first, but now he somehow saw through the tears collecting in his eyes that they were indeed little pink dog bones scattered in a polka dot pattern.

Could you really blame him for completely losing any semblance of a grip on reality at this point?

"...can you hear me?"

Apparently she'd tried to talk to him. He must've missed that. He nodded, wiping his eyes clear, and once again felt any levity depart him as he sobered at the thought of who sat before him.

"Well," she seemed to hesitate a moment, before pushing on. "I suppose this is proof enough of my identity?"

He nodded once more, before clearing his throat.

"I am sorry princess - or, your highness? Sorry, I'm not very familiar with royal address. This whole situation just seems…"

"Beyond any believable coincidence or happenstance?"

"That about covers it," he agreed, not quite sure where to go next. He cleared his throat once more.

"About what you said...your highness…"

"Please, call Cossette, or princess if you must. If I am to truly aid in your exoneration...for me to do so legally will require time and much consultation with my father."

Her father. The King of Erusea. What have I gotten myself into.

"But if that proves impossible," she continued, "then I suppose I would be willing to do so by whatever means necessary. For that reason, my station in regards to you matters very little, especially since you are not even a citizen of Erusea."

He was rather stunned. Her proclamation, while incredibly generous and well-meaning, gave little consideration to her own well-being or potential fate should her actions be discovered.

"Won't that cause you trouble?"

Her brow pinched together as her eyes held a determined glint.

"I will not remain idle while an innocent man has been condemned to death by forced military service by the hand of my own people."

He couldn't tell what truly rendered him speechless: the admission that Erusea, in some way, had framed him for the assassination of President Harling; the fact that her impassioned manner of speech was not an act put on for the sake of propaganda; or that she had fiercely declared she would not rest while he remained a marked man.

Naive and innocent she may be, but lacking in conviction she was not, and if her initial appearance had taken away from her image as a graceful princess, he couldn't help but think that her current bearing and manner all but cemented her stature in his mind.

"I...thank you, Princess," he said. "Really, Cossette, I don't know what to say. My entire life has been turned on its head in the past month, and what you're telling me is almost too good to be true."

* * *

**1300 05 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

She felt her heart go out to the man in front of her. He may have otherwise been handsome, somewhat above average looking, if not for his pale complexion, slightly sunken cheeks, and overall exhausted and defeated demeanor. His grey-blue eyes that had sparkled with laughter and mischief now held no light at all, and the sheer enormity of what her people had done could be observed in the visible weight placed upon his shoulders. Cossette resolved to herself that she would see it removed.

"You are not alone in this, James," Cossette said. "Though I must ask a favor in return."

His head snapped up, though he seemed resigned, as if he had expected there to be a price. She quickly explained.

"I...have been reading through defense and intelligence reports for some time now, and perhaps in my naivety, ignored or deemed necessary some of the lengths that my people had taken. Take as an example the Arsenal Birds: though I may not agree with the terms that the Erusean people have dealt with, I know that the space elevator was intended to be a symbol of peace and hope by Former President Harling. The Arsenal Birds were meant to protect that peace and hope, and are now being deployed as symbols of military might."

"And though I desired for Erusea to reclaim the historic lands that were once ours, we have extended farther into Usean territory than I ever intended. Where once our people were disrupted and displaced, we have now committed that very sin against those who never acted against us."

"I ask for your help, and in return I will help you. I know that it will take some time to secure your freedom, in which time you will likely be once again deployed in combat. Please, inform me when the time comes so that I may try to save as many of my people as I am able. Your performance at Roca Roja has convinced me that you are not a heartless murderer, as some in our ranks believe you to be. Please help me save my people, and I will help you save yours, and any others you assist along the way."

Cossette knew that she had convinced him and spoken true when his shoulders straightened, and his eyes regained a semblance of hope, coupled with newfound determination.

"I can do that. I may not have a chance to do so until we're already airborne, though."

She smiled in relief, content in knowing that he would help her.

* * *

**1305 05 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

The princess smiled at his response.

"Thank you, James. I will take any help that I can."

The golden retriever, which had remained napping on her lap throughout their conversation, looked up after she responded to somewhere out of his view. He thought he heard someone speaking, but he couldn't make out what they said.

"I will be there in a moment, thank you for the reminder," Cossette replied, before turning back to face him. She smiled apologetically. "Unfortunately I must cut our conversation short; I have matters that I must attend to. Once again, thank you, and I hope that, with our combined efforts, we will be able to see to it that many more of both our peoples are able to see the end of this war."

"Thank you again, as well, Cossette," he said, returning her smile. "For everything. I'll be in touch."

"As will I. Farewell."

And with that, the most surreal conversation of his life was over. James almost immediately began questioning if it had really happened, or if he was just hallucinating from the heat. He didn't realize how long he had sat there, wondering about it, until he heard voices coming from outside the hangar.

"...pretty sure he's been in here. You in there, Trigger?"

He checked the time, and saw that almost half an hour had passed since the end of their conversation. Apparently Tabloid had come looking for him.

"Hey Trigger," Full Band said, walking in with Tabloid and Count. "Do anything interesting with the computer I gave you?"

James glanced at it, and making a decision, just shrugged.

"Not really," he replied. "Thanks for the music, though; you've got good taste."


	9. Chapter 9

_"See you in the sky, Trigger." He paused. "And try not to get in over your head, you hear? I want to see you wearing my shoes someday."_

* * *

"**Full Circle - The First Half"**

**2142 11 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

The only solitary location on the entire airbase was, in fact, solitary.

Yes, there were other locations on the base that were not used at all, and would provide a much desired respite from continuous proximity to all of his most recent best friends.

However, it was difficult to find one's way there when said excellent pals would question his whereabouts, even if mostly out of boredom, or when the esteemed commanding officer of this fine establishment had them maintaining the base's appearance to match its prestige.

Like mowing the lawn. With nail clippers. For the _entire_ base.

McKinsey can take those nail clippers and shove them up -

'James, are you there?'

\- into his transverse colon. Nurse's, even turned fighter pilots, probably shouldn't wish harm on others, but there must be a provision for when someone is such an enormous dick.

Huh, must be compensating. For his tiny feet.

"Lights out in fifteen, convicts!"

He returned his focus to the laptop.

'I am, but it'll have to be quick. What's up?'

He had been unable to check for any messages from the Princess since their initial conversation, since the only alone time he got originated from some particular pettiness the warden had contrived, and they didn't exactly let him take his laptop when it came about.

And he was hoping it wouldn't be taken from him here, either, normally hiding it whenever possible.

Tabloid was keeping watch, as could be seen out of the corner of his eye. James had promised him time to play solitaire or listen to music if he kept watch, and vice versa. Tonight was the first time either of them had been able to do so, though, with the packed schedule of inane tedium the warden had put together for them, and James had called dibs.

'I will have to move straight to the point then: there have been reports of Osean fighters moving inland in Southeastern and Central Usea, assumedly performing reconnaissance since they have not engaged at any point in time, preferring to flee when met with potential force. I bring this up because I know that we made an agreement to share information regarding any operations your squadron might be involved in, and since I had not heard from you, I wanted to assume that you were not involved, but I really did want to make sure that you would still inform me if you were involved.'

He had to reread the message once, and quickly responded in detail once he thought he had the gist of it all.

'No.'

Okay, more than that was probably needed.

'I was not involved, and I definitely would have informed you if I was. Where exactly were they seen?'

Two stressful minutes passed as he watched the clock with no response. _21:52. _There.

'They were in Hatties Desert, near San Salvacion, and their last reported location projected their flight path to be through Sandbury Desert toward the Waiapolo Mountain Range.'

'What is the Erusean military doing in Hatties Desert?'

Again her response was delayed, and in his impatience James pulled up a map of the Usean continent. _San Salvacion…_

'Cossette, is the Erusean military repairing Stonehenge?'

A pause, yet again.

'...yes.'

Okay. He flashed with anger, but squashed it quickly because he knew that she likely had nothing to do with it, or at least he hoped. First the Arsenal Birds, and now Stonehenge. He could understand, even sympathise with some of the reasons the Eruseans would go to war, but this just seemed like a race to control as many of the world's super weapons as they could. What were they planning?

* * *

**21:54 11 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

Cossette held her breath.

'Okay, that aside, though it is admittedly quite disturbing, what can I do to help with this current situation?'

And sighed in relief.

'There is nothing much you can do, I suppose, if you were not aware of their mission to begin with. The only thing you might do is pass along any information about them if you come across it, and even then only if it involved a direct strike against my people, as we agreed.'

'I can do that.'

Though he agreed, she felt he was angry about the information he had been given.

'Are you angry with me, regarding Stonehenge?'

She watched anxiously as the cursor blinked.

'Angry? Yes. At you? No, but only because I'm assuming you weren't involved in it.'

Though rendered a statement, the question - or perhaps, questions - he asked still remained. Was she involved? And perhaps, did she approve?

She had been furious when she was informed - by happenstance of running into the right conversation at the right time - of their military's efforts to repair Stonehenge. Her father, though understanding of her misgivings, had also justified it.

Even if his justifications primarily relied on the advice of his military advisors, some of whom she did not trust to be entirely honest in their advocacy, and whom she later found were in some way related to the military contractors they had brought in for the repairs.

'No, I was not, and I adamantly disagreed with its implementation.'

'That's good to hear.'

With the brevity of his message, she could not help but feel that he was still upset with her, even despite the words in front of her quite literally saying otherwise.

Her rumination was interrupted by a follow-up message, and any delay he may have had in replying was quickly evident.

'Look, I have to go soon, otherwise I'll risk getting caught and having my only means to contact you confiscated. I just want to say: if Erusea is activating Stonehenge, then three of the world's superweapons will be under Erusean control (including both Arsenal Birds). I've seen and heard your speeches (and it is quite evident you believe wholeheartedly in what you say); I know why Erusea says they've gone to war.

'The Arsenal Birds I could understand, but Stonehenge as well? I want to believe you've been forthcoming with me, with your own people, yet I feel like there's something else going on here, something that, again if you've been honest with me, is going on without the knowledge of even the Princess of Erusea knowing about it. What's happening, Cossette? Why is Erusea going to such great lengths to use drones and spare civilians, when it seems that they are preparing for a world war, one where Erusea itself could be caught in the flames?'

Cossette had no response for him. She tried, her fingers reaching for the keys of her computer but the words simply did not come, the only word her mind could find was _why_. Why indeed.

'I know I'm rambling, and I guess I don't really expect you to have an answer. I will trust in you, as you seem to be a very honest and genuine person from what I've seen. I just propose that we expand our agreement from just my involvement in the war, because this is getting to be much bigger than just saving a few people wherever we can. This is potentially endangering millions.'

'...you are asking me to commit treason.'

She could almost feel her father's gaze bore into her as she considered his proposal. True, she was already committing treason in providing any of the information she had, in even _talking_ to him, which she had still not reported to anyone. But this was so far beyond their original agreement. It could potentially involve the whole war effort.

A different thought struck her as well: just what could two people do, placed even as they were, in the face of an entire war?

'Aren't we already?'

Cossette giggled, unbidden, perhaps at the continued absurdity of it all. In hindsight, likely more than a little trepidation, as well. She'd thrown in her lot with - well, at this point, they were opposing both factions, really, though one might argue Cossette opposed her own more than James did his.

'I suppose we are. I agree.'

'Great. Goodnight, Cossette.'

And with that, the connection terminated.

"Goodnight, James," she said aloud, if though only to herself.

* * *

**1430 12 July 2019**

**En Route to Yinshi Valley, Southeastern Usea**

**Destination: 6°32'11" N, 26°22'08" W**

Fortunately, no one really expected him to talk during briefings, except perhaps to make a couple of snarky comments. Otherwise he would have had a difficult time acting surprised and confused about having to escort two Osean fighter squadrons through Yinshi Valley, after their return from a reconnaissance mission went awry.

Now though, they were airborne, and he had a nice, shiny - okay, maybe not so shiny, but it worked - F-14D Super Tomcat that he really hoped didn't come from the remains of Gargoyle 1's aircraft.

Avril didn't sit back on the upgrades, even if she did call him a dumbass as many times as she could work it into a sentence. A modified hand-on-throttle-and-stick setup, transplanted Strike Eagle radar, modified F-16 engines, two under glove missile pods stuffed with QAAMs, two nacelle mounted fuel tanks, and additional fuselage mounted hardpoints gave him plenty of capability to take on any mission McKinsey threw their way.

At least, that's what he hoped.

Now that he was airborne, though, there wasn't much else he could do besides put faith in her handiwork, which had held fast and true thus far.

There was some time before they reached Yinshi Valley, and with everyone else preoccupied as we waited for the autopilot to carry us to our destination, he decided to pull out his laptop message Cossette about their mission.

'On our way to Yinshi Valley, 6°32'11" N, 26°22'08" W; ETA 30 mins. Mission is to knock out SAM and RADAR emplacements, then provide escort as needed for the reconnaissance squadron coming through. Will try to limit damage to mission priority targets.'

He let the soothing hum of the dual F110 engines wash over him as he waited for a reply.

'Are you able to connect to the secure frequency? There is an important matter I must inform you of, and it would be easier to do so, well, relatively in person.'

James had already connected his helmet's headset to the laptop to listen to Full Band's music collection on it, so it was relatively easy to switch the audio to the secure connection. He also double checked his own radio frequencies to ensure he was only transmitting through the computer's uplink.

"Can you hear me, Cossette?"

"I can," she replied, "and I must truly thank you again for making an effort to spare my people."

"Of course," he said, before asking, "What did you want to talk about?"

He couldn't see her, but knew could hear her breathe in as she hesitated.

"There...will likely be drones following the reconnaissance squadron."

"As annoying as that may be, we've dealt with them before. Is there something else?"

"...there is," she said, slowly. "You see, I am currently at an experimental Erusean Air Force base. Two of my friends, one my classmate, the other her younger sister, are here as well."

She paused, and he let her take a moment as she got to her point.

"There is a man here, a veteran ace fighter pilot, whose flight patterns have been used to model the behavior of our drones. When he heard that they were being shot down in great numbers, he wanted to fly out and see the drones, as well as those who were destroying them, in action."

"He will likely be there today, following behind the drones, and though he will likely pose a great threat to your forces, I would ask that you try to spare him, because he is their grandfather."

It was his turn to pause. Surely she realized how great of an impact it would make if they were to incapacitate this man?

"...James?"

He shook his head clear.

"You know that may not be possible, right? If he attacks anyone, I will defend them."

"I know," she sounded quiet, resigned. "And I could not ask you to put your life before his. That is why all I can do is ask, and hope for the best. You have proven yourself to be an honorable man, from your actions on the battlefield to your faith in me. I will trust you to do what is right."


	10. Chapter 10

"_He who fights with monsters should be careful, lest he thereby become a monster."_

_Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil. Aphorism 146_

"**Full Circle - The Second Half"**

**1700 12 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

He would not have doubted that the sound of the collision warning alarm would have haunted him for the rest of his time on this mortal plane, had it not been for the silence that had intermittently quieted the instruments' insistent complaint.

Thunderous, crushing silence. The kind that is deafening, as it bellows for all who would choose to hear it, that those sounds they took for granted have all but fled from their ears.

He would not have doubted that the abject terror which gripped his heart with the strength of a thousand men would have haunted him until his heart beat its last, as the powerful hum of his engines gave way to the whisper of the wind, had it not been for the unshackled rage that had flowed through his veins as he saw the markings on _his_ plane.

His blood had boiled as he saw first hand the man who had toyed with, played with, and then like a spoiled child who had tired of its most recent novelty, tossed aside one of his dearest friends without a care in the world.

Clemency, he decided, was a concept created by men who had never made the acquaintance of such unbridled hatred.

"Why am I not surprised it was you? There really is only one person I know that would have the combined skill and balls of steel to pull that off."

James looked up from his intense study of the empty hangar's floor, if you can apply that label to cracked concrete.

"Lieutenant Colonel Bullard?"

"Colonel, actually. The brass apparently decided a full bird was required to raise the latest roost of hatchlings," Wiseman replied, before cracking a smile. "And I certainly won't turn down the addition to my paycheck."

The older man's smile drifted off as he approached, and a fatherly hand came to hold an orphaned shoulder.

"Now who's ass do I need to kick, that's got your head so far up your own ass that you've eaten your dinner twice?"

"If you can call it dinner," James snorted. He missed the brief scowl appear on Wiseman's face as he had found the man's shoes to be far more interesting. "And no one is going to send that man's ass straight into the earth except for me."

The hand on his shoulder dropped.

"Now Trigger, we don't handle things like that-"

"Of course, we should just let the monster go."

"Beckett, stand down! I want to help, but-"

"He nearly killed Emily!"

The colonel froze. James' gaze turned upwards, blue on brown, and bore every ounce of pain and anguish and _rage_ within their depths.

"They called him a predator," he snarled. "I say he's a monster, in dire need of being put down. Predators kill by nature, in accordance with nature. He doesn't. Not even for sport, not even for fun, as though any thrill to possibly be gained from the spillage of another's blood has long since faded-"

His head dropped once more as he gasped for breath...

"Son."

...barely noticing the arm wrap around his shoulder, a warm embrace at odds with the cold and hurt and _pain_…

"Just breathe."

...and so he did.

First, a steady, if shaky breath. In, and out. Then a gasp. Sharp, brisk-

And then he sobbed. A dam broke, and with it, the last vestige of strength that held together his crippled spirit.

**17:15 12 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

Cossette gazed out from her window, out on the flattened wasteland of impossibly white sand that formed the ground for the landing strip and the rest of the base.

It was odd, to know that just two months prior she had gazed directly upon the war torn streets of her capital, her home, and yet the war never felt so close, so _real_, as it did now.

She watched as Alma prepared a cold compress, as Ionela prepared the oxygen tank and mask, and finally as the pilot took both in grateful hands, looking for all the world as a loving grandfather should.

One would never have known that this man had killed as many men as he had names, and many, many more.

She might have dismissed the concept in favor of heaping praise and medals in thanks for his valorous patriotism, had her conscience not given pause, knowing now that she had asked her most recent friend - could she, _should _she, even call him that? - to spare the man's life, despite the work he conducted against them.

_Work_. As though the pursuit of scientifically groundbreaking research on Artificial Intelligence diminished the taking of another person's life to the tedious concept of _work_.

Perhaps it had.

A call rang forth; her laptop beckoned her.

**1715 12 July 2019**

**444th Air Base, Zapland, Southeastern Usea**

**2º36'45"S 21º58'22"W**

His eyes had run dry, having cried for so much: innocence, Emily, the knowledge that he had been an unfortunate pawn in a political game; and then simply to cry, until his eyes grew red from tears and exhaustion instead of bloodlust and rage.

As his breathing came once more under his own control, he released himself from the colonel's paternal embrace, only one goal in mind.

It became clear much later that perhaps his mind was not as firmly within his grasp as his breath, and that he should perhaps consider permanently renting a shrine to present daily sacrificial offerings to Fortuna as he considered the pained - or perhaps amused - smile she must continuously wear as she watched over him.

Flipping open the laptop where it lay hidden amongst other junk parts atop a crate, he maneuvered with no little amount of haste to establish a connection with the one person he was able to blame for all of this.

"Trigger, what are you-?"

"_James? What is - are you okay?"_

"Why did you ask me to spare him?! He attacked Emily, and nearly killed her!"

"_I didn't - what do you mean-."_

"How dare you ask for mercy for-!"

A firm hand gripped his shoulder once more, though in this instance any semblance of paternity gave way to authority.

"Beckett, that's enough. I-."

Wiseman fell silent, mouth agape at the face on the screen that mirrored his own.

The hand migrated from his shoulder to a too weary, too old face, and only departed when a controlled breath accompanied it.

"You know, I was going to ask for an explanation," he said. His voice was calm; the sort of calm one only finds when one is forced to shut down all emotions and find some - any - form of logical explanation for what they have just encountered.

"I was going to ask about your trial, killing Harling," he continued after a moment. "And now this, I suppose.

He cleared his throat.

"There was too much chaos for all the pieces to fall together they way they did for your conviction-."

"_Perhaps, I could offer some insight into that matter, Colonel…?"_

Wiseman glanced back towards the screen. He seemed to contemplate his next words and actions, before sighing from his evident conclusion.

"Bullard, your highness. And please, if you would."

James had frozen, reality collapsing in on him in the way it only does when one is caught directly placing their hand in the cookie jar, if the cookies were foreign intelligence, the jar a laptop with most likely illegal software, and it was broad, if waning daylight at an Osean military base, rather than midnight at your grandmother's house.

James idly wondered (since the rest of his brain had yet to reset) how many people had been executed for treason by committing the egregious act of stealing a cookie. There must have been at least one in all of history besides him; people were petty.

**17:15 12 July 2019**

**Erusean Air Force Weapons and Tactics Testing Base, Kingdom of Erusea**

**[LOCATION REDACTED]**

"_...And please, if you would."_

Cossette's heart was pounding, and never had she been more grateful for her public speaking tutors as she carefully controlled her face.

"_I understand this is a precarious situation, Your Highness, but I would consider myself a fair and honest man. I cannot guarantee any outcome from this conversation, but I will hear you out."_

Her last tutor had always said she wore too much of her heart on her sleeve, and consequently her face. Cossette knew it was how she conveyed such emotion and passion in her speeches to her people, but she would always be a poor politician.

She took a breath.

"Regarding Jame..._Lieutenant Beckett's_ innocence," if he caught the slip, he did not show it, "I can tell you with factual assurance that he is, in fact, innocent."

"_How?"_

A simple question, with a simple, if complicatedly implicating answer. She made a snap decision, hoping that her instincts would hold true.

"Since there is no use hiding at this point, I will be frank: Erusean intelligence framed him, using an Osean model aircraft controlled by combat drone technology."

She had already told James as much, and he seemed to trust this man. Cossette stole a glance at the petrified younger pilot; yes, there was a distinct combination of apprehension and fear that only comes from the possibility of angering - or worse, disappointing - someone you respect and trust.

Cossette was glad she wore at least a modest sleeveless blouse and jeans this time, rather than her nightclothes.

The colonel turned to James.

"_Did you kill Harling?"_

The question seemed to cure his paralysis.

"_No."_

The younger pilot's response came after only a brief moment of pause, and to the older man's credit, he nodded almost immediately afterwards. Her gamble had paid off; at least, in this matter. She did not delude herself, and knew there would be further questioning following this first round.

"_Alright then," Bullard said. "In that case, may I ask why I have the privilege of conversing with the Princess of Erusea?"_

Cossette intervened once more...

"Intelligence and information."

...and was rewarded with a grateful, if still somewhat guarded glance from James. She ignored the pang of...something she was not able to identify due to its brevity, and continued.

"And hopefully, a means to end this war."

"_Continue," the colonel requested._ She was relieved to find it was an earnest, and more than a little bit curious, request, rather than a harsh demand.

"I have been assisting with parsing through military intelligence for some time since the beginning of the war. After accidentally making contact with Lieutenant Beckett, we came to an...understanding, and agreement. That for all I care about my people, and the injustices they have endured, this war is not the answer."

She paused, gathering her thoughts.

"We agreed to share information, initially, regarding any missions and battles that Lieutenant Beckett was to be involved in. This quickly expanded to include any intelligence at all, in the hopes that it could be used to end the war."

The colonel nodded slowly, his face devoid of any indicator as to the direction of his thoughts.

"_I want to trust you, since Trigger - excuse me, Lieutenant Beckett does, and I trust him," the older man began. "But...I just can't take that risk."_

"Then perhaps a gesture of good faith would convince you."

"_...I'm listening."_

"Are you part of James' squadron?"

"_No, I..."_

"Please, Colonel Bullard," she pleaded. "If I am to help you, I must have at least some idea of what I can provide to do so."

The man stared at her, his gaze seeming to pierce into her, for what seemed like an eternity.

"_Alright. No, I am not part of Trigger's squadron. I'm with...a reconnaissance group."_

The same one that James was rescuing? It would be likely, but ultimately did not matter. Cossette quickly searched through her files, until coming across what she decided would be suitable. She paused just before sending the file in question.

"All I ask, is what I have asked James for in return before: that while I understand that we cannot, and will not, save everyone, that you at least attempt to spare my people in your usage of this information."

The man considered this for a few moments, before slowly nodding his assent.

"_I make no promises, but I'll do my best."_

Knowing that his response was likely to be the best she would receive, Cossette sent the file, and prayed to any deity that would listen that she was doing the right thing.

Silence stretched on as the colonel looked through the file. Cossette attempted multiple times to make eye contact with James, but he stalwartly gazed only at the floor, or at the file on the screen.

Finally, after a few minutes that felt as long as years, the colonel returned his gaze to her.

"_That'll do," he said. "Since I'm sure you're both aware that what we are doing now amounts to treason, I'll spare you that particular lecture. Just be careful -" _ he paused to glance at James _"if I can find out about this, so can others, and they may not be as forgiving or understanding."_

Cossette cringed, and her reaction was matched by James as well. Seeing their reaction, the colonel went on.

"_My time here is almost up, so I'll finish up here. Your highness, I'll have Trigger pass on any intelligence you send him to me, and hopefully with the patrol routes you just sent, I can pass off any reports I make using your information as having been gathered during our own reconnaissance missions._

"_Trigger, I'll see what I can do about your conviction. A lot of people were not happy about the speed of your trial, and how there was too much convenient evidence. It set a bad precedent for future courts martial, and many would be relieved to have your sentence repealed, if only to remove that precedent. That said, it'll take a while to pass it up the chain of command to someone who will actually do something about it, so for now you'll have to sit tight."_

At this, he paused.

"_All right, that's it then. If you don't mind, your highness, I'd like a moment alone with Trigger."_

She replied quickly with her assent, and watched as the older man pulled James to the side, away from the view of the camera and reach of the microphone. Jemma had awoken a minute before, and had apparently decided that now was an excellent time for pets, as Cossette suddenly found her lap obscured by her shadow's adorable face. The distraction was welcome, and her warmth helped at least somewhat soothe her frazzled nerves.

James reappeared on the screen a minute later, having apparently finished his conversation with the colonel, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other. After a moment of hesitation, she decided to break the silence.

"Was Emily a friend…?"

"_She is."_

She felt relief at his use of present tense, but also a slight pang of...jealousy? She had always had many friends, especially given her royal lineage, but not many close ones, and was not sure if even Ionela would have such a vigorous reaction as James had if someone had threatened Cossette's life in the same manner.

"_Cossette, I want to apologize."_

"I understand, and I am sorry," she interrupted, overtaken by a wave of guilt. "Though I do not necessarily endorse revenge, I truly cannot understand nor condemn your desire for it, against a man who attacked your friend."

"_You don't understand, Cossette," his face darkened, "he didn't just attack her. He _toyed_ with her. As if she wasn't even human, like she didn't even matter. And then only shot her down after he'd had his fun."_

She closed his eyes at this, and found that, while he indeed had appeared as a loving grandfather to two of her closest friends, she had no difficulty seeing the grim mask he often wore, and knew that there was likely much more to the man that she would never find out - nor did she wish to, if this was the result.

"If I had known...I would never have asked you what I did, James."

He sighed.

"_Thank you, I appreciate that," he said. "And I'm sorry for lashing out as I did, I just…"_

"I may not understand exactly why you reacted as you did, but I do understand the desire to protect those we hold dear. You do not have to apologize, James," she replied, gently, hoping that he would be willing to continue their...partnership? friendship?

She knew that she had succeeded when his eyes met her own, and she saw that they had lost their previous edge, replaced only with gratitude.


	11. Update

As of 25 Apr 2020, I have put this story on hiatus. I am extremely grateful for the support this story has received so far, and would like to continue it if at all possible, but right now that is definitely not possible. See my profile for full details.


End file.
